Slamming Poetry and Other Involved Problems
by bahjcb
Summary: The school just isn't big enough for both Casey's Poetry Club and Ralph's gambling ring. Add Derek to the mix and things get a little interesting. Dasey
1. In Which Problems Arise

A/N: This story is dedicated to **wprincessannw** because she gave me the idea and asked me to write it! I hope it turns out like you hoped.

Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own LWD. Nor do I own _Guys & Dolls_ upon which this story is loosely based. I think that sounded enough like legalese, yeah? ;D

* * *

_Chapter One: In Which Problems Arise_

"Hey Sam!"

Sam stopped looking through his locker for his math book and looked up. Seeing the brown haired sophomore walking towards him wearing a baseball jersey, Sam wracked his brain trying to remember who the kid was.

Arriving, the sophomore rubbed the back of his neck and leaned towards Sam to whisper, "The guys on the team said I could talk to you about this week's crap game."

"Oh," was all Sam replied. He knew by now that it wasn't wise to just instantly assume that the kid wasn't a mole for Principal Lassiter.

"I have an account with Ralph," the sophomore pleaded.

"I'm not Ralph," Sam pointed out as he went back to trying to find his math book.

"I haven't been able to find Ralph to place a bet."

Finding the book, Sam shoved it into his bag and said, "Why don't you just leave him a message?"

"I was trying to," the kid snapped.

"You don't seem to be doing a very good job," Sam answered, slamming his locker shut.

The sophomore looked like he had a sudden epiphany and grabbed Sam's arm before he could walk away. He then whispered, but with confidence, "Don't you agree that Anne Murray is Canada's _true_ Songbird?"

Opening his bag back up, Sam mumbled, "I can't believe Ralph has a crush on Anne Murray." Opening up a notebook that was ostentatiously labeled "English," Sam turned to the sophomore and asked, "What's your bet?"

"I want to put down twenty on Levene making it to round three before losing all his money."

"Wow, betting on the game instead of playing yourself," Trevor snarked, coming up behind the sophomore and scaring him half to death. "Wouldn't you rather be part of the action yourself?"

Shrugging the sophomore replied, "I lost a lot of money in the last two weeks. Not playing myself has slightly better odds."

"It's good to know your limits," Trevor agreed.

"Lassiter," the sophomore gasp before turning around and scurrying away.

Quickly shoving his notebook back into his bag, Sam complained, "I didn't get the kid's name."

"Christophe Silver," Trevor whispered back, just before the principal reached them.

"Hello, boys," Lassiter said with a glare.

"Hello, sir," Trevor answered back with a smirk. "How are you doing today?"

Growling, Lassiter snapped, "I'm on to you two. Shut it," he added as Trevor started to open his mouth. "Where's Ralph?"

"Ralph?" Sam asked, looking at the principal with an amazingly blank look.

Narrowing his eyes, Principal Lassiter snarled, "You know who I mean! You three have been practically attached at the hip lately."

"Oh," Trevor exclaimed. "That Ralph. Why didn't you just say so?"

"Very funny," the way he said it, however, it didn't sound like he thought it was very funny at all. "Where is he?"

"Don't know," Trevor drawled, sounding completely unconcerned.

Sam agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.

Taking a deep, calming breath, that didn't seem to calm him at all, Lassiter tried again.

"Forget it. Just tell Ralph that I'm on to his little floating crap game that's being held on school property."

"Floating crap game? Whatever is that?" Trevor asked.

"A crap game that changes locations each time so that it's hard for us to find it."

Nodding to show his understanding, Sam said, "Wow, that's sounds hard to pull off!"

"Especially with you at the helm, hunting down those rule breakers," Trevor added.

Feeling a headache coming on Lassiter gave up trying to get Trevor or Sam to talk sense. "Just tell your friend that I'm cracking down. He won't be able to find a place to hold his crap game anywhere in this school. Got it!"

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. There was a part of him, a part that sounded suspiciously like his best friend Derek, that wanted to add a mocking salute. Luckily, he was able to keep that impulse under control.

Giving the boys one last glare, Lassiter then headed down the hall, eager to get to his office and the aspirin that was awaiting him there.

As Lassiter turned the corner, Ralph walked out of the boys' bathroom and stood in front of his friends.

"Lucky you," Trevor said. "You just missed Lassiter."

"Yeah," Ralph groaned. "Lucky me."

"Lassiter wanted us to tell you that he's…" Sam started.

"Cracked down on everybody and we'll never be able to find a place to hold the game?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, that," Sam agreed.

"We can't not have the game, though," Trevor protested. "The latest bets around our school's athletic teams have paid off and there's a lot of money floating around."

"I know," Ralph groaned. "We got to get it from them before they spend it on other things."

"Like girlfriends," Sam said.

"Or their cars," Trevor added.

"Or food," Ralph finished.

Heading towards the cafeteria, Sam asked, "So, there's no where? Not even the girls' locker room?"

"Amy's mad at Max for wasting all his money on craps and not paying enough attention to her," Ralph replied.

"I thought she'd be more upset that he isn't paying attention to his studies," Trevor interrupted. "Max is already a super senior."

Laughing at the other teen's academic misfortune, Ralph said, "Whichever, Amy will rat us out."

"They're repainting the gym walls at night so that's out," Sam added.

Nodding, Trevor said, "And with the way things are going, I don't think we should use the office."

"The auto shop's garage is available, but Price Krakowski wants a thousand dollars, upfront, and in cash."

Shaking his head in disgust, Sam said, "That sounds like that _curling_ player. I can't believe he wouldn't take your marker."

"A marker is the one thing a person cannot back out of," Trevor agreed. "It would be like…spitting in your mother's eye when she tells you she loves you."

"I know," Ralph groaned. "But with the heat Lassiter's generated, Price wants a guaranteed amount of cash. I don't have a thousand bucks. I don't have anything. I'm so broke I couldn't by my…uh…cousin…a…birthday gift."

"What cousin?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows. This was the first he'd heard of any cousin that Ralph was close enough to that he would buy him or her a birthday gift.

Looking at anywhere but at Sam, Ralph said, "Yeah, you don't know her. She lives in the Northern Territories. In Yellowknife," he quickly added as further proof of this cousin's existence.

"This is the first time you've mentioned this cousin," Sam argued, eyes narrowing.

"What about holding the game…off campus?" Trevor tentatively suggested, interrupting the argument.

Sam and Ralph stopped just outside the cafeteria doors and stared at Trevor in disbelief. Their looks seemed to say that he was crazy for even suggesting such a thing.

"What?" he asked. "Why not?"

"What's the point of having a floating crap game if it's not on school property?" Ralph asked.

"The adrenalin rush is half the fun," Sam agreed.

"And outwitting Lassiter," Ralph added with a smirk.

"Then how are we going to come up with a thousand dollars," Trevor asked.

Interrupting, Ralph's stomach let out a loud growl which caught the attention of all the boys.

"Lunch first," Ralph declared. "We'll decide on how to get the money later."

"Agreed," Sam said, pushing open the cafeteria doors.

* * *

"Oh, ho, ho," Derek snarked. "Here comes the freak brigade."

Sam and Ralph looked up from their respective lunches to see Casey and the Poetry Club come striding into the cafeteria wearing matching blue blazers and carrying instruments. Derek rolled his eyes as they found a position front and center of the room.

Casey stood in the middle of the group on top of a stepstool, holding a tambourine. On either side of her was Noel Covington with a snare drum, a girl—Derek was fairly certain her name was Becky Thomson—with a bugle. The last member, Karen Clark, stood next to Noel with her flugelhorn at attention and ready to play.

Outside of Derek and a couple of other people, no one seemed to notice the Poetry Club. When Casey gave a nod and they broke into song, however, everyone noticed. Conversations ground to a halt as they all stared at the odd quartet. That's not to say that the Poetry Club's music was bad, it just wouldn't be winning _any_ awards _any_time soon.

Noticing that they had everyone's attention. Casey gave a signal and the band quickly wrapped up the song.

Pulling a folded piece of paper out of her pocket, Casey declared, "As the Poetry Club of Sir John Sparrow Thompson High School, we are here to bring you a cultural moment."

Casey completely ignored the groaning that filled the room and just raised her voice.

"I will be reading you a poem by W.H. Auden entitled _Musee des Beaux Arts_.

_About suffering they were never wrong, _

_The Old Masters; how well, they understood _

_Its human position; how it takes place _

_While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; _

_How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting _

_For the miraculous birth, there_…"

"Space Case," Derek yelled. "You done yet? 'Cause you're putting us all to sleep. Some of us would actually like to eat lunch, not sleep in it."

As laughter filled the cafeteria, Casey's nostrils flared angrily. The rest of the Poetry Club exchanged looks, unsure as to what their president would do now.

No one had to wait long, as Casey started to bellow, "_For the miraculous birth, there always must be  
Children who did not specially want it to happen, _…"

Interrupting Casey and topping her in volume like only Derek Venturi could, he yelled, "Hey, if we've got to have lunchtime entertainment, let's have some good stuff."

Amy, the head cheerleader, then bounced up and yelled, "Come on girls, let show them what _real_ entertainment is!"

With the help of yells and high kicks, the cheerleaders soon gathered together and started showing off their newest routine.

Seeing that they had lost the battle they never had much of a chance on to begin with, Noel reached up and clasped Casey's arm to get her attention.

"Let's go put our stuff up."

"Okay," Casey sighed. At the moment, she was more hurt and disappointed than angry and everyone in the Poetry Club could tell.

As the Poetry Club shuffled out of the room, Sam caught their moment out of the corner of his eye. Watching the dejected looking parade, he said, "Derek, you should have just let her read the poem."

"Don't be a girl, Sammy," Derek replied, not taking his eyes of the cheerleaders. "The poem was lame, just like Casey."

"She looks pretty upset," Ralph added.

"She'll get over it," Derek said, waving away their concern. "She always does."

* * *

Putting their instruments up, Casey said, "Maybe if we read some more modern poetry? Or funny poems? We probably just threw them in too deep."

Snapping her bugle case shut, Becky said, "It's not that, Casey. No one cares. No one wants any culture added to their lives."

"That's not true," Karen interrupted. "_Derek Venturi_ doesn't want any culture and the lemmings just follow along doing anything he says. It must be great to be king," she added with a dejected sigh.

Noel nodded in agreement. "I think Karen's right. If Derek didn't say anything, we might have been able to at least _finish _the poem."

"I hate him," Casey declared. "He always has to ruin everything."

"Well, that's it," Becky decided, taking off her blazer and throwing it on a nearby desk. "I'm out."

"What?" the rest of the club all exclaimed.

"I'm out," she repeated. "I'm not going to dedicate my life to a lost cause. I'm joining The Mathematics."

"The math club?" Casey asked in disbelief.

"Hey," Becky said with a shrug. "I'm good at math and they always have a pie at each of their meetings."

"Pie. Pi," Noel laughed. "That's awesome!"

"Maybe if we had desserts more people would come to our meetings," Karen offered. "Like the Choux pastry. That would be different and fun, right?"

Ignoring Karen, Casey turned to Becky and asked, "Can't you be in both clubs?"

A slight blush covering her cheeks, Becky said, "I'm sorry, Casey, but The Mathematics think Poetry Club is kind of lame. I'd be teased unmercifully if I stayed."

Shooting up out of her chair, Casey yelled, "_They_ think **we're** lame!"

"Sorry," Becky repeated as she shuffled out of Casey's range before running out the door.

Sinking back into her chair, Casey sobbed, "What are we going to do now?"

Noel exchanged a helpless look with Karen and stared to rub Casey's back comfortingly.

"I have a megaphone at home. I could bring it next time we give a cultural moment." Seeing Casey's look of disbelief, Karen quickly added, "So that we can read our Poem of the Day over the cheerleaders' nonsense."

Sniffling, Casey asked, "You two aren't going to leave too, are you?"

"No way," Noel assured her.

"That's right," Karen agreed. "We'll bring culture to this school or die trying!"

* * *

Derek was sitting in his chair watching TV when Casey came storming into the house. Not taking his eyes off the screen, he smirked, "How did you little culture freak club meeting go?"

Stopping mid-step, Casey turned and glared hatefully at her older stepbrother. In a tone as serious as anyone had ever heard her use, she said, "I hate you, Derek Venturi."

Surprised, Derek flipped around to look at her, only to see Casey halfway up the stairs.

Once she was gone, Edwin whispered, "Bro, what did you do?"

Pulling his eyes away from the empty stairs, Derek said, "Nothing unusual. She'll get over it."

"I don't know about that," Edwin countered. "I've never seen Casey that mad before."

Derek dismissed his brother's concerns with a wave of his hand, but inside, he wasn't sure he believed himself either.


	2. In Which Challenges are Thrown Down

A/N: The Spoke Pub is located on the first floor of the UCC on University of Western Ontario's campus. UWO is located in London, Ontario. The Spoke Pub also has a list of different acts that perform on various nights of the week. There is also a Spoke Lounge that serves "famous" CLT's and "not quite as famous but equally tasty" BLT's. All of this is true and not something I made up. However, anything that does not _exactly_ match up with real life had been changed or added for the furthering of this story. Ralph's "Adelaide" did have to sing and dance somewhere!

Oh, _A Bushel and a Peck_ and the Hot Box Girls (and parts from _Adelaide's Lament_) are from Guys and Dolls. Plus, Ralphie's new last name comes from one of the actors who played Nathan Detroit on the stage.

* * *

_Chapter Two: In Which Challenges are Thrown Down_

The hardest part about having a secret relationship was coming up with excuses for Derek. Sam would just give Ralph an odd look but wouldn't press him. Derek, on the other hand, liked to mess with Ralph and would keep pushing. Luckily for Ralph, Derek was too distracted by the hate vibes Casey was sending him to really go after Ralph and he was able to easily escape.

After finding a parking place, it didn't take Ralph long to jog his way over to The Spoke Pub. Skidding to a halt just inside the doors, he was happy to find that he hadn't completely missed his girl's performance. They had already started, but she was still up there in her gold and feathery outfit singing away.

Having just spotted him, Ralph's girl smiled and sang, "A barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep." Pointing right at him, she sang on, "About you. About you!"

Ralph grin right back. He'd been surprised when she told him that she and six of her sorority sisters were going to start a group called the Hot Box Girls and were going to perform in The Spoke Pub Wednesday nights. He wasn't surprised, however, when at their first performance he saw that his girl was the lead performer. She'd never just be a chorus girl.

"Doodle oodle oodle. Doodle oodle oodle. Doodle oodle oodle, oo!" the girls all sang, as they scurried off the stage.

Ralph knew this meant they were finishing up, and hurried towards the stage to be there waiting when his feathery gal finished.

"Good-bye now!" she called out to the audience.

Turning, she saw Ralph waiting for her and hurried quicker than usual to get off the stage. Throwing herself into his waiting arms, she squealed, "Ralphie! You came!"

Spitting a stray feather out of his mouth, Ralph said, "Of course I came, Keni. I wouldn't miss my girl perform for anything."

"Oh, Ralphie," Kendra squealed. "You're such a—achoo!—dear."

Stepping back to look down into her eyes, Ralph said, "That cold seems to be hanging on."

Sniffling, Kendra replied, "My doctor says it's a chronic condition."

"Even so, it's sure hanging on."

"Achoo!" Letting go of Ralph, Kendra reached down and took his hand. Leading him away, she said, "Let me grab my bag and then we can get some dinner."

"Sounds good," Ralph agreed.

Soon they were seated in a lonely corner all by themselves with their dinner. Ralph was chowing down on his BLT pita and fries while Kendra had a CLT pita sitting in front of her, but she was sipping her large glass of orange juice, hoping that the vitamin C would help ease her cold.

"Ralphie," she cooed, finally breaking the silence. "I got you an anniversary present."

"Oh," Ralph sighed. He had really hoped she had forgotten about their anniversary. "You didn't have to do that, Keni."

"I know, but I love you, Ralphie," Kendra replied with a flirty grin.

Opening the box, Ralph's forehead scrunched up in surprise. Picking up one of the business cards inside, he read out loud, "Ralph Guillaume. General manager." Looking over at his beaming girlfriend, he asked, "General manager of what?"

"Anything you want," she cooed, snuggling against him. "I havefaith in you, Ralph. You can be anything you want to be. Achoo! I know you thought that running a craps game was the only thing you were good at, but you can do anything, Ralphie! I know you can."

"Kendra…"

"I'm so happy you gave up that game! I would hate to see you expelled when you're so close to graduation."

"Right," Ralph nervously agreed. Putting the business card back into the box, said, "Kendra, I'm sorry I have to tell you, but I don't have a gift for you. Money…"

"Oh, Ralphie," she interrupted. "I don't mind. It makes me feel like we're a real couple!"

"Ken, we _are_ a real couple," he argued.

"Ralphie, real couples don't celebrate their anniversary every month. Especially after they've been dating for 14 months!"

"Keni, I told you…Derek…"

"Derek doesn't care!"

"It's breaking the Male Code for me to date Derek's ex-girlfriend."

"Achoo!" Kendra sneezed in place of her scoff. "The only time the _Male Code_ bothered Derek was when Sam dated Casey. Achoo!"

"Kendra, we've been best friends since…"

Shifting away from her boyfriend, Kendra exclaimed, "You're choosing Derek over me?"

"No!" Ralph assured her.

"Achoo!"

"It's just that—as soon as we graduate high school I won't see Derek so often and…"

"Achoo! Forget it," she sniffled, looking away.

"Keni!"

Looking back at him, Kendra pleaded, "Forget Derek. Why can't we tell my mother? She's dying to me you! Achoo! It's not like she would tell Derek or Sam."

"Kendra…" Ralph started to beg.

"Achoo! This cold's all your fault!"

"What?" Ralph replied, completely confused at the change in subject.

Nodding her head, Kendra reached down into her bag and grabbed a thick book which she dropped onto the table.

"My psychology professor gave me this. He said that he thinks my cold is psychosomatic. Achoo!"

"How would he know you have that?" Ralph argued. "He's not a _real_ doctor."

"Ralphie—achoo!—psychosomatic isn't a disease! Listen to this," she instructed, opening the book. "'The average unmarried female, basically insecure, due to some long frustration may react with psychosomatic symptoms, difficult to endure, affecting the upper respiratory tract.' Achoo!"

"Keni, even if we told your mother, you'd still be unmarried," Ralph replied it what he clearly thought was a reasonable manner.

"Long frustration, Ralphie! That's us! Achoo! It also says, 'The female remaining single, just in the legal sense, shows a neurotic tendency, see note.'" Flipping a few pages, she continued, "'Chronic organic symptoms, toxic or hyper-tense, involving the eye, the ear, the nose, and throat.' See! Achoo!"

Looking at the book askew, Ralph decided that feminist Casey would have problems with this book. Taking it out of Kendra's hands, he asked, "How old is this thing?"

"Ralphie," she exclaimed, taking the book back and shoving it into her bag. "It doesn't matter. What is says does. Achoo! _Me_ waiting for _you_ to really commit, to acknowledge us in public—achoo!—is giving me a chronic cold!"

"Keni, I'm really committed," he assured her. Taking her hands in his, he added, "I love you, Kendra. I'm committed. I don't want any other girl."

"Achoo! Oh, Ralphie, that's so sweet," Kendra replied. Sniffling, she added, "But Mother wants to meet you. Ralphie…she thinks you havea skin disease. Achoo!"

"What? Why would she think that?"

"That's what I told her."

Shrugging he said, "That _would_ make her think that."

"You won't meet her, Ralphie. Achoo! Mother's from Prince Edward Island. Islanders don't wait _14 months_ to meet their daughter's boyfriends. Mother was concerned that I was **so** upset about breaking up with Derek that I was making you up. Achoo! I had to tell her something!"

Running a frustrated hand against his face, Ralph asked, "What does she think is wrong with me?"

Kendra looked down at her CLT and nervously straightened the plate. "She thinks you have Argyria."

"What? What's that?"

"Achoo!"

"Kendra!"

Poking at the lettuce in her pita, she finally said, "Mother thinks that your…uh…parents might have given you… colloidal silver has a medical treatment."

"Kendra!"

Looking up she snapped, "Mother's thinks you're skin is blue. Achoo! She thinks you're ashamed of how you look and that's why you won't meet her."

"I'm blue," Ralph repeated in disbelief.

"She thinks you're trying some laser therapy to look…less blue—achoo!—before you'll meet her."

"Kendra, what will we tell her when I finally _do_ meet her?"

"The laser therapy worked and you don't want to talk about it," she eagerly answered. "Achoo! So, you'll meet her!"

"She thinks I'm blue?"

"Ralphie, stop being this way…"

"Your mother thinks I'm _blue_!"

Crossing her arms, Kendra growled, "She wouldn't—achoo!—think that if you would have just met her months ago!"

"Sorry to interrupt," Mimi, one of Kendra's sorority sisters and fellow Hot Box Girls, said as she walked up to their table.

Rubbing her nose with her handkerchief, Kendra replied, "You're not. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow your diamond drop earrings. I have a date with Phil tonight."

"Are you sure you want to wear those? Your neck's so short."

"I'm wearing heels," Mimi answered. "And speaking of heels," she said, turning a glare on Ralph. "Your stupid craps game has ruined my dating life. I was supposed to be dating Ewan Stenlake this week but he canceled because **this** is the week your stupid game is played!"

Kendra gasped angrily. "Achoo!" Turning to her friend, she said, "Mimi, go ahead and wear the earrings. I need to talk to Ralph."

Mimi nodded and quickly walked off.

Leaning away from his girlfriend, Ralph begged, "Keni, I had this planned for months. I couldn't just…"

"Save it! Achoo!" Bending down, she grabbed her bag and zipped it shut. "I'm leaving."

Ralph scooted out of the booth after her and dropped down on his knees. "Keni, I'm on my knees!"

Sniffling, she said, "Yeah, just like your stupid craps game. Oh! Achoo! Stay out of my life Ralph Guillaume! Achoo! Now you don't have to worry about Mother thinking you're blue. Achoo!"

"Keni," he begged, grasping her hand. "Don't do this!"

Yanking herself away, Kendra started to storm off before turning towards him and snapping, "Make sure to leave a good tip! Achoo! My friends work here!"

Groaning, Ralph sank back onto the floor as he watched her sashay out of his life for good.

* * *

"Ralphie," Derek teased sitting down next to his melancholy friend. "How ya doing?"

Sighing, Ralph said, "I'm blue. Really blue."

"Some chick, huh?"

"She was more than _some chick_, D," Ralph argued. "She was perfection. I've never seen someone look so—_perfect_ in yellow feathers."

Derek raised his eyebrows at this, but decided that he didn't want to know.

"Ralph, all chicks are the same."

"That's not true!"

"Of course it's true," Derek insisted. "I'll admit that I like the companionship of a female. Even up to the period of a several months, but making her out to be more than that…stupid."

Sam, who up until this point had been quietly sitting in the corner of the booth, finally spoke up. "What about high class girls?"

Derek smirked, "There is no high class. Females are all of the same class and are all easily interchangeable."

Trevor, who had also been quiet through this exchange and was only still there at Smelly Nellie's because he was trying to help convince Ralph that they still needed to get money to continue the craps game, snorted in disbelief.

Hearing this, Derek turned his head to give Trevor a dirty look. "Don't believe me?"

"Easily interchangeable?" Trevor asked.

"Yeah," Derek defended. "You bet they are!"

Ralph suddenly sat up straight, he's eyes widening. Sam shot his friend a curious look, but Ralph ignored him and turned to Derek saying, "Care to bet on it?"

"What?"

"Bet on it," Ralph repeated.

"What are the terms?" Derek asked, interested.

"I pick some female and you have to get her to go with you to The Havana Club _tomorrow_ night."

"What's at risk?"

"A thousand dollars," Trevor quickly inserted.

Seeing Derek's raised eyebrows, Sam said, "What, don't think you can do it, D?"

"Of course I can do it," Derek insisted. "That's just a lot of money to risk."

"It won't matter **if**—_you_ win," Trevor taunted.

Narrowing his eyes, Derek snapped, "Oh, I'll win!"

"So, it's a bet?" Ralph asked.

"You got it," Derek quickly agreed, shaking Ralph's hand. "So, who's this _chick_ you think will actually turn _me_ down?"

Hearing the off-kilter sounds of the Poetry Club as they came marching up to the restaurant, Ralph smirk and pointed out the window. "Miss Casey McDonald."

"No," Derek argued. "She's my _stepsister_."

"That's right," Sam replied. Quickly dashing Derek's hope of support, however, he added, "_Step_sister. Not _sister_."

"Is she too _high class_ for you, Derek?" Trevor asked with a smirk.

Straightening, Derek replied, "I'm not a welsher and like I said, females are interchangeable. Be prepared to lose a thousand dollars, Ralphie."

Walking away from the table, however, Derek muttered to himself, "Me and my big mouth."

--

Once Derek was out of hearing range, Ralph leaned forward and said, "That thousand is as good as ours. Spread the word. Tomorrow night the game's being held at the auto shop. We'll meet here at Smelly Nellie's."

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Venturi asks Casey out," Trevor laughed.

Smiling, Sam nodded. "Ditto."


	3. In Which Markers are Given

A/N: Sorry I'm taking so long to update! I'm in the middle of moving. I've got the chapters planned out, the problem is getting them typed up and posted. This might be my last post for 8 or 9 days. It depends on how quick we can get the internet up at my new place.

Oh, side note, _Kraftfoods .com _and _Richard III _by William Shakespeare helped in the making of this chapter.

* * *

_Chapter Three: In Which Markers are Given_

Sir John Sparrow Thompson High School had a larger supply closet that's lock had be broken and no one ever got around to fixing. At first, there were a large amount of pranksters who though it would be fun to steal copy paper and ballpoint pens. Principal Lassiter, fed up with the mess, decided he was going to put a new lock on the room himself when a request for the formation of a Poetry Club slid across his desk. Deciding to take the easier of the two routes, Lassiter gave the room to the Poetry Club for their meetings.

Lassiter's plan was brilliant. Teachers still had access to the all the supplies and now the supplies were safe because no one, male or female, wanted to go near the Poetry Club and be labeled geeky, effeminate, or lame. In the end, it was like Lassiter had actually popped for a new lock to that door. He was proud of efficiency like that.

It was in this closet room that the three remaining members of the Poetry Club gathered to discuss their upcoming Poetry Bash. Casey, as usual, had an agenda and a list of notes. Noel sat with his pen poised over a piece of paper just waiting to write down whatever it was Casey wanted him to do. Karen, on the other hand, was flipping through a cookbook and occasionally reading recipes out loud. Luckily for Noel and Casey, Karen didn't really seem to need their feedback and they were able to block her out for the most part.

Sighing, Casey said, "I found half of our fliers for the Poetry Bash either thrown away or covered up with something else."

"Maybe appetizers would be better than desserts," Karen mused. "Or a combination of the two?"

"So, are we going to cancel the Poetry Bash?" Noel asked.

"I don't know," Casey sighed.

"Oooh," Karen squealed. "_Smoked Salmon Dip_! That sounds classy! Of course, getting smoked salmon this time of year…maybe the _Pesto Dip_?"

Setting her pen down, Casey said, "Maybe I should just quit and go back to being a cheerleader."

"Casey," Noel said, taking her hand in his. "You can't just give up. Besides, you never were really happy as a cheerleader. You love poetry."

"Was I?" Casey asked. "I'm not sure."

"Of course you weren't," Karen replied, startling Casey and Noel. They were sure she hadn't been paying any attention. "How could you be happy with people that shallow and fake? Now, _Roasted Red Pepper and Green Onion Dip_ or _Toasted Cashew Butter_ with raspberries and honey?"

"What?" Casey asked, staring at her fellow poetry club member in confusion.

"I've decided to make a mix of desserts and appetizers for the Poetry Bash," Karen replied with a roll of her eyes at their lack of attention. "I think if we advertise that food will be provided, we might get more people."

"People aren't supposed to come because of food!" Casey protested.

"No, they're supposed to come because of their love of poetry," Derek interrupted.

All three Poetry Club members turned to find Derek lounging against the door with a smirk on his face.

"Derek, please leave," Casey said coolly.

Noel and Karen exchanged a look of surprise at the lack of emotion in Casey's voice and the fact that she didn't split Derek's name in two syllables like usual.

Derek noticed the same thing, but was determined to not lose the sucker bet that Ralph issued, and walked further into the room.

"You're not a member of the Poetry Club," Casey went on, not moving from her chair. "We're trying to have a meeting."

"But, Case," Derek schmoozed. "I want to join."

Once again, Noel and Karen exchanged a look. This time, however, it boarded on panic at being in such close proximity to a potential World War III.

"Mr. Venturi," Casey said in her most adult voice. "Excuse me if I find that suspect, but you've never shown an interest in poetry or _culture_ in general before now."

"Secret passion," Derek countered. "I didn't want to be made fun of."

"Oh, and who would dare make fun of _The Derek Venturi_," Casey mocked.

"I'm a senior. I decided to buck the system."

Seeing Casey's nostrils flair, Karen slammed her cookbook shut and jumped up. Gathering her things, she stammered, "Um…I…ah think that the _Cool Lemon Cheesecake_ sounds good, but I should probably check out the Home Ec. refrigerators. Don't want to plan on using fridges that are unavailable," she added with a stressed laugh. "See you tomorrow, Casey!"

Yanking his eyes away from Karen as she scurried away, Noel turned back to see the dark look Casey was directing at Derek who was obviously trying too hard to look innocent.

Making a split second decision, Noel grabbed his things and shot up. Unable to think of a good excuse, he blathered, "I hope Karen isn't planning on _just_ lemon cheesecake. I'm pretty sure that my mother has a citrus allergy. I'll…ah…catch you later," he blurt out, making his escape.

Raising an eyebrow, Derek said, "We either make them very uncomfortable or they're looking for some time alone." Smirking he added, "Maybe you should quit Poetry Club and let them get it on."

Scowling, Casey shot back, "But that wouldn't really work as you're planning to join and they still wouldn't be alone."

"True," he conceded as he took Noel's now empty chair. Leaning back, Derek surveyed the small space. "You've done wonderful things with the place. You wouldn't know this is a supply closet with all those pictures of poets and posters of poems."

Suddenly he stood up and walked over to get a closer look at a poem. Turning back to Casey, he said, "This is Lord Byron, **not** Shakespeare."

"What?" Casey angrily growled.

"_She Walks in Beauty_," Derek replied. Looking back at the poster he read,

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes:_

_Thus mellowed to that tender light_

_Which heaven to gaudy day denies._

Lord Byron wrote that about his cousin, Mrs. Wilmot, after he saw her at a party in a mourning dress of spangled black."

Casey couldn't think of anything to say, but instead proceeded to stare at him with her mouth agape, causing her to look much like a goldfish.

Eyebrow raised and smirk firmly across his face, Derek asked, "Don't believe me?"

Ripping the poster off the wall, Casey said nothing as she walked back over to the table. She knew as well as Derek did that he was right, but she was loathed to admit it. Looking at the poster once again, she saw that the handwriting was Becky's. The girl would have gotten a good tongue lashing if it weren't for the fact that she'd already left the club.

Strolling closer, Derek startled her when he leaned in to whisper, "You know I'm right."

Scooting away, Casey demanded, "How did you know?"

Smirking, he replied, "Like I said, secret passion."

"I don't believe you!"

Shrugging, he stepped closer, "I'm not sure that I could convince you. You're a stubborn woman, Casey McDonald."

"What are you doing here, Derek?" Then as he started to open his mouth, she snapped, "The truth! Not your idiotic lie about wanting to join."

"Fine," Derek agreed, spreading his arms out in a placating gesture. "We'll play the hand open."

At that phrase, Casey's scowl just deepened.

"Your Poetry Club is a dud."

"You don't know that!"

"Casey, what do you take me for?" Derek asked as he placed his hands on the table between them so that he was leaning towards her. "Besides you there are only two other members of the Poetry Club. If you don't call that laying an egg I don't know what is."

"So?" Casey snapped back. "Three people gathering to celebrate culture are better than no people at all!"

"True," he conceded. "But wouldn't it be better for more people to be a part of it? Besides, the three of you consist of the officers of the club. In the end, there's no one."

"It doesn't matter…"

"Yes, it does, Case," Derek replied, straightening up. "It does to you."

"Well, maybe we'd get farther if you didn't always make fun of us and mock us every chance you get," she countered.

"And that's why I'm here."

"Yes, because you've had a change of heart and decided to suddenly tell everyone about the wonders of poetry," she drawled.

"It's true," Derek insisted, smirk nowhere in sight.

That fact alone made Casey nervous. And, being nervous around Derek was never anything she wanted to admit to. So, instead of saying anything, she just tried to stare him down.

Grabbing the pen she had set aside when he entered the room, Derek flipped over the poster of the previously decided inaccurately labeled poem and started writing on the blank back. As he wrote he said, "I'm sure even you have heard of Ralph's gambling ring."

"Even me?"

Pausing in his writing, Derek looked up at her with a smirk, "You're not the gambling type, Case."

Throwing her shoulders back, she nodded. "Yes, I have heard of it. So, what?"

Setting down the pen, Derek handed over the poster and explained, "In the gambling world, this is called a marker. It means I owe you and cannot back out of it for any reason."

Rolling her eyes, Casey looked down the marker and read aloud, "I O U at least 12 genuine cretins. Derek Venturi." Tossing the poster back down on the table, Casey stormed, "And what do you want in return? Don't try to tell me you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart."

Smirking, Derek sat down on the edge of the table. "You wound me, Case."

Rolling her eyes once again, Casey moved across the room, hoping that the distance, however small, would stop her from killing him.

"Fine," he sighed, realizing she wouldn't take the bait. "I want you to have dinner with me."

Whirling around, Casey snapped, "Dinner? How's that unusual?"

"Not with the family, Case," Derek countered, standing up. Strolling towards her, he said, "Just you and me."

"Oh," she replied, clearly not believing a word he said. "Of course. And where would we have this _dinner_, hum? Smelly Nellie?"

"Actually, I was thinking The Havana Club. It's a couple of hours out of town but it has a vegetarian pasta salad that I know you'll love."

"The Havana Club…but that's," Casey protested, wracking her brain for the word she wanted. Finally she settled with, "It's not a nice club. …Whores go there!"

"Case, I'm not sure that's fair," Derek teased. "I've taken _tons_ of girls there."

"My point exactly," she dryly countered.

Laughing, he replied, "You're too tense, Case. It comes from being so proper all the time. I'm sure it's wearing."

"Like you would know anything about being proper!"

"They do say the sinner knows more about righteousness than the saint."

"Are you done yet?" she asked angrily crossing her arms against her chest.

Giving her a calculating look, Derek asked, "Is it just because it's me or would you turn down any guy who asked you to go to The Havana Club with him?"

"I would turn down any…jerk who thought _that_ was an appropriate place to take me," Casey firmly replied. "A true gentlemen…"

"Oh, that's right," he interrupted. "You're waiting for your _Ivanhoe_."

"What's wrong with that?" Casey snapped.

"What's wrong is you're looking for a cardboard cutout. He won't have any personality. He won't be a challenge. You, Casey McDonald, need a challenge."

"Oh, what would you know?" she huffed turning her back on him.

"I know that I'd never ruin a woman that way."

"Ruin? Ha! Just being with you would ruin her enough!"

Derek smirked and stepped closer. "Nah! I'd leave her as she is. The last woman I'll ever date will have fire. There will be this indescribable chemistry that we won't be able to deny. Just looking at her face, into her eyes, and I'll know how much I care."

Hearing Casey's snort of disbelief, Derek's smirk widened and he stepped even closer to her.

"I'll know in my heart that she's the one for me and I won't need to ask myself, 'am I right, am I wise, am I smart,' because it won't matter. All that will matter…is…us."

Flipping around to launch into another angry retort, Casey found that Derek was so close that he was almost touching her. Backing up against the wall, to make some space, she forgot what she was going to say.

Taking advantage of this, Derek leaned in closer. Rubbing his thumb along her lips he muttered, "Teach not thy lip for such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, lo, here lend thee this sharp pointed sword, which if thou please to hide in this true breast, and let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke and humbly beg for death on my knee."

"Ah…" Casey stuttered.

Swiftly, before she could protest, Derek pulled Casey into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. The action in and of itself brought Casey back to herself and she struggled wildly. Derek, however, was too strong for her and held her tight against him. Eventually, much to Derek's delight, Casey stopped struggling and fell limply against him.

Pulling back, Derek steadied her and smirked as he saw the awed look upon Casey's face. Stepping back, his smirk widen, especially since she seemed too stunned to do anything but stare at him. Backing towards the door, Derek flipped the collar on his leather jacket. Cockiness just seemed to exude from him.

Sighing heavily, Casey—still looking suitably stunned and awed—walked towards him. Smirk widening, Derek held out his arms to pull her against him once again.

SMACK!

The sound of the palm of Casey's hand striking Derek's cheek seemed to echo within the small room.

Blinking, Derek dropped his arms.

Scowl once again firmly in place, Casey threw open the door and raised one arm to point angrily towards the hall. "Get out!"

Knocked out of his cockiness, for the moment, Derek looked into her fiery eyes and said, "Um hum. You do know that this just means I'll be bothering you later. As Janay McDaniel wrote, '_I think we can make it you and I. We just have to try, and try again. Listen and laugh more with each other instead of worrying about what everyone else thinks._'"

Growling in frustration, Casey shoved him out the door and slammed it after him.

Out in the hall, she could her him yell the final line of the poem, "_So just try with me and we'll try and try again._"

Casey threw her back against the door to bar his way back in. In reality, she wanted to yell at him, "Go to Hell!" but she held on to her temper with the vague notion that she was too much of a lady to do so.

* * *

I recommend _Try_ by Janay McDaniel to anyone. It really reminds me of Derek and Casey.


	4. In Which Derek is Determined

A/N: So, as I'm still in the process of unpacking from my recent move, my updates might be slow–ish, but I have internet now so that will automatically make it faster than before!

Disclaimer: All recipes used by the Poetry Club in this and future chapters were found off _kraftfoods .com_

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* * *

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Chapter Four: In Which Derek is Determined

Scowling, Derek clicked onto yet another webpage trying to find a poem that would show Casey just how "serious" he was about this Poetry Club thing. Glancing over yet another poem, Derek mentally groaned. This was _**way**_ more work than he thought it would be when he took this stupid bet. And, it was way too much work to expend on _Casey_.

"Yo, bro," Edwin said, walking into Derek's room. "Need help?"

Derek gave him a searching look, but Edwin just looked innocently back at him.

"Open the vent. I need to spy on Casey."

Doing as he was told, Edwin asked, "What are we doing this time?"

"_We're_ doing nothing," Derek coolly informed his little brother.

"Bro, I'm not an idiot. I know you're up to something. I want in," Edwin insisted.

Derek gave his brother a scathing look but stopped himself from saying anything when Casey's voice floated through the vent. With a look that threatened marjor hurt if Edwin didn't stay quiet, Derek turned his attention towards the disembodied, one-sided conversation.

"Karen, I don't care about _Molten Chocolate Pudding Cake. _…Okay, it does sound decadent, but that's not the point."

Derek had to stifle a laugh at that comment, careful not to make any noise to give away his position.

"Karen," Casey sighed the name with frustration. "Trust me, it will work. We'll drum up interest in the Poetry Bash. I'm sure of it. … Of course, you can still make the _Molten Chocolate Pudding Cake_. You just _cannot_ advertise it or give out samples while we march around school. …You really think it will go bad in two days? … Well—maybe a few samples wouldn't be that bad. …Not that many! We're not a…"

Whatever the Poetry Club wasn't, however, Derek and Edwin didn't find out as Casey left her room in the mist of her sentence.

Edwin, who had wandered behind his brother while Casey spoke—curiosity at what Derek was up to driving him nuts, said, "_A Pretty Woman_?"

"Huh?" Derek asked. He had suddenly gotten an idea and hadn't been paying the least bit of attention to his little brother.

"You're looking up poetry." Getting a better look at the screen, Edwin added, "Poetry by Robert Browning?"

Turning, Derek gave his younger brother a cold stare. "Get out."

"Yes, sir," Edwin squawked as he rushed out the door. Hurrying down the hall, he wondered what Lizzie would think of what he had just learned. Edwin decided that he would eat his hat if the poem Derek was looking at wasn't significant in the least.

_That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,_

_And the blue eye_

_Dear and dewy,_

_And that infantine fresh air of hers!_

* * *

If Derek didn't know better, he would have sworn that Paul was stifling laughter as he signed Derek's pass to join the Poetry Club in their march around the school, reading poetry and playing their instruments to encourage people to come to the Poetry Bash. Again, if he didn't know better, Derek would have thought there was something up about Paul's comment and grin when he handed the pass over.

"You know, Derek, it's so nice to see you taking a positive interest in Cay—cultural activities around the school."

Since Derek _did_ know better, he just gave Paul a funny look as he snatched the pass out of Paul's hand and shoved it in his pocket. Added to that, he completely ignored the older man's laughter as he left the office.

Shaking his head at the guidance counselor's antics—sure Casey had something to do with the man losing his mind, Derek quickly tuned his guitar before heading off to catch up with the Poetry Club. Seeing the group head into an English class's room, he smirked and picked up his pace.

Slipping in quietly behind Karen, who was intently playing her flugelhorn, Derek started to softly strum his guitar. Having heard their song several times before, he was easily able to play a few cords that meshed as well as could be expected with the Poetry Club's borderline discordant tone.

Casey didn't notice the guitar at first, so intent was she on striking her tambourine and reciting the day's poem. This day's poem was "Poetry" by Meghan Frey. A poem Casey was sure to stir up the school into wanting to attend their Poetry Bash.

_Poetry is music to your mind._

_It rhymes and flows._

_It settles you and comforts you._

_Poetry triggers thought._

_It flies through your mind._

_Poetry had a pattern to it._

_Poetry is music._

As she finished the poem, she and the rest of the Poetry Club brought their music to a dramatic halt. Unfortunately for Derek, it took him two seconds to realize this. Just enough time for him to end a note later than everyone else and for Casey to hear a guitar and whip her head around in surprise.

Seeing Derek standing with them, guitar in hand and smirk firmly in place, Casey could practically feel the steam pouring from her ears. Angrily, she practically flattened Karen with her tambourine as she passed it off before grabbing Derek by the ear and hauling him out of the classroom, much to the surprise of everyone present.

Noel and Karen exchanged a worried look as the door closed behind the step-siblings. Deciding the show must go on, however, Noel plastered a grin to his face and gave Casey's spill about excitement of tomorrow night's Poetry Bash.

Out in the hallway, a different scene was taking place. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Casey let go off Derek's ear and shoved him against a wall.

"Hey, watch the guitar," Derek protested. "I had to borrow Dad's since I don't have an acoustic."

Completely ignoring him, Casey shoved him again and growled, "What are you doing? Why are you here?"

Giving her a completely innocent look, Derek replied, "I joined the Poetry Club yesterday, Case. We're trying to…"

"No," she interrupted. "We both know you don't care. I don't know what you're up to—yet, but I do know…"

"Casey," Derek tsked, taking his turn to interrupt. "I've already told you."

"Right," she sarcastically replied. "You've had a change of heart and want show off your _secret_ love of poetry."

"Don't forget," he added with a smirk. Leaning forward, Derek started to lightly caress her cheek. Casey, however, jumped back and slapped his hand away. Derek raised an eyebrow at her antics, but continued on as if nothing had happened. "I also want to take you to dinner tonight."

"Oh, how could I forget? You want to take me to your little bimbo pit stop," she answered with narrowed eyes. "Forget it, Derek. I'm not buying this time."

"Oh, wow!" Karen exclaimed as she and Noel walked into the hall. "I think we might _actually_ have some people come. The cookies I brought—major success!"

Giving Karen an indulgent grin, Noel added, "And once we promised not to play music at the Bash we got a few cheers."

"I was handing out cookies at the time," Karen argued. "Stop trying to steal my thunder."

Smiling much too brightly for the circumstances, Casey said, "Great job you two." Taking her tambourine back from Karen, she added, "Let's go to the next classroom."

Watching Casey sashay off, head held high, Poetry Club following in her wake, Derek actually started to grin. Following along behind them, he decided that yes, this was a lot of work, but messing with Casey was fun too.

* * *

With a sigh, Casey stopped in front of the Poetry Club's room and quickly surveyed the hall.

Stopping next to her with raised eyebrows, Noel asked, "What are you doing?"

"I think the Prince of Darkness has finally lost interest in us."

Laughing, he replied, "Live and hope, right?"

"Right," Casey said with another sigh.

Walking into their headquarters, Noel and Casey found Karen trying to ply their faculty advisor, Mr. Patterson, with her leftover, homemade _1,2,3 Chocolate Chunk Cookies_ and _Carrot-Raisin Spice Cookies_.

"So, if you're not in the mood for chocolate, I totally recommend the _Carrot-Raisin_ cookies. They are a **great** source of Vitamin A," Karen happily informed the hungry English teacher.

"Oh," Mr. Patterson hummed as he took one of each treat being offered. "Casey," he said, taking a bite of the chocolate cookie. Quickly swallowing, he added, "Just who I was looking for."

For the first time since Derek started to join in with his guitar, Casey smiled a real smile. "Mr. Patterson, we are all ready for the Poetry Bash tomorrow night…"

"Casey," their faculty advisor softly interrupted. "Here's the thing. Funding for after-school activities has been cut."

"What?" the Poetry Club exclaimed in unison.

Shrugging apologetically, he said, "There are a lot of other clubs with a _lot_ more participation than the Poetry Club. The district doesn't want to…each afterschool club has to have a faculty advisor…"

"And they don't have the money to pay you to _advise_ us," Casey finished, resignation filling her voice.

"But, what about the Poetry Bash?" Karen argued. "We've put a lot of work into that and we really think it will be a success!"

"We've had several people say they will be there," Noel agreed.

"Besides yourselves," Mr. Patterson said, "You have to have _at least_ twelve other people who attend and participate in the Poetry Bash for the Powers that Be even think of reconsidering."

Derek, who had apparently been lounging in a dark nook and had yet to call attention to himself, smirked widely and stepped forward.

"Mr. Patterson, get ready to start reconsidering. We've definitely got twelve people in the bag"

"Derek Venturi?" Mr. Patterson asked. He almost wondered if he had started seeing things.

"In the flesh," Derek cockily agreed. Casey, on the other hand, closed her eyes and inaudibly groaned.

"Why are you here?"

"I joined the Poetry Club yesterday." Throwing his arm around Casey's shoulders, he said, "Isn't that right, Case?"

"Derek does seem to know something about Poetry," Casey reluctantly admitted.

Mr. Patterson looked back and forth between the two of them before shaking his head and forcibly pulling himself back to the matter at hand.

"Derek, just because you have a large following doesn't mean that they will all join _Poetry Club_ just because you did."

Pulling away from Casey, Derek started to stroll around the room with seemingly no purpose. "Mr. Patterson," he sighed. "I'm hurt. I really am. This isn't about me. This is about Casey and the wonderful job she's done as Poetry Club President. The woman is a miracle worker."

Giving his audience a smirk, Derek turned and grabbed a poster off the wall.

"_She Walks in Beauty_ by Lord Byron. Excellent poem." Strolling over to Casey, he handed her the poster. Smirk widening, he added, "Don't you agree, Case."

Not giving her time to reply, Derek turned back towards the Poetry Club's reluctant advisor.

"If Casey McDonald can get a man's man like me interested in the work of George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, she can get those twelve people."

Turning to Casey, he gave her a very significant look and asked, "Right, Casey?"

Looking surprised, Mr. Patterson turned his attention to Casey as well and said, "Is he right? Will you have twelve participations here tomorrow night?"

Glancing between Derek and Mr. Patterson, Casey could feel her heart speeding up with worry. Looking down at the poster in her hands, she found that Derek had handed it to her backwards allowing her to see the marker he had given her just yesterday. A marker which promised twelve participants to her Poetry Bash for the cheap price of dinner with Derek. A dinner _alone_, and over two hours away from home, with Derek.

Looking back up, Casey saw Derek ever widening smirk. He thought she was going to say no, she decided. Determined not to let him win and to protect her club, Casey straighten her shoulders and nodded.

"Mr. Patterson, I can personally guarantee that our Poetry Bash will have _at least_ twelve new participants."

"Excellent," Mr. Patterson replied with a grin. "I'll go talk to Principal Lassiter about this now."

Grabbing four more cookies from Karen's still proffered plate, the English teacher hurried out the door.

While Noel and Karen's attention were distracted by the exciting new development of people _actually_ coming to the Poetry Bash, Derek leaned towards Casey—his lips mere centimeters from her ear—and whispered, "Be ready to leave by four. We wouldn't want to miss curfew and then the Poetry Bash after all _our_ hard work, now would we?"

As Derek strutted off, so full of himself that it practically exuded from his every pore, Casey finally let herself shiver. Closing her eyes, she told herself that her reaction was because of anger and had nothing to do with Derek and his close proximity. Either way, she decided, it was going to be a long night.

* * *

A/N: I found "Poetry" by Meghan Frey on Miss Sprecher of Sauk Prairie High School's website. Those kids have some really great poems! Their website is: englishrocks1. tripod .com


	5. In Which Derek & Casey Visit the Havana

_Chapter Five: In Which Derek and Casey Visit the Havana_

"Emily, what do I wear?" Casey whispered/shouted into the phone. There was no way she wanted Derek knowing she was this nervous about their dinner—possibly a date thing. More than anything, she wished her best friend wasn't off spending time with Sheldon in Newfoundland. It was be easier to have this conversation face to face.

Emily, on the other hand, was thrilled they weren't having this conversation face to face. It made it so much easier to hide her laughter when they were speaking over the phone. Sheldon was sitting next to her on the couch listening into the conversation and grinning widely. Derek and Casey's very probably a date thing didn't surprise him anymore than it did Emily. It was times like this that he once again wished he hadn't moved. The Dasey entertainment factor was so much harder to find out about when you were living outside of the providence.

"Casey," Emily asked as she grinned back at Sheldon and gave him a wink. "Have you ever been to The Havana Club?"

"No. But I've heard about it," Casey quickly added.

"It's a nightclub," Emily said. "What do you think you should wear to it?"

"Well, I don't want to look like one of Derek's bimbos or let other people think I'm one of his bimbos. _And_ I don't want to let him think he's won."

Emily rolled her eyes as Sheldon leaned closer to the phone and said, "Wear layers."

"What?" Casey exclaimed, surprised by the voice change. "Sheldon, is that you?"

"Hi, Casey." Then before she could reply, he quickly went on. "Emily and I went there once. The food is really good. But, to protect yourself from the environment, I would wear layers. Think turtleneck."

"Protect myself from the environment?" Casey asked, clearly confused as to what Sheldon meant.

"Casey, nice girls don't go there. That's why Emily and I never went back."

Gasping, Casey replied, "You mean if I don't wear a high collared shirt people might think I'm a prostitute?"

Sheldon paused for a second before agreeing, "Exactly."

Emily gave her boyfriend a look of stark disbelief. Though she didn't say anything, he knew she was asking him why he said that. Sheldon just smiled right back. Emily shook her head and returned her attention to Casey.

"Case, what about that pink shirt you bought on our last shopping trip?"

"I don't think so, Emily. It almost shows cleavage. I think Sheldon's right. Turtleneck it is. Thanks so much you guys!" she cried before hanging up the phone.

Ending the call on her side, Emily turned to her boyfriend and asked, "Why did you tell her to wear a turtleneck? As long as she doesn't wear her _Babe Rader_ outfit she should be fine."

Grinning, Sheldon draped an arm around Emily shoulders as he said, "Casey didn't want Derek to think he was winning by her outfit. Derek likes a challenge. A turtleneck seemed to fulfill both their wants."

Rolling her eyes, Emily pulled Sheldon forward for a kiss. Just before their lips met, she said, "You're so lucky I like you."

* * *

Casey looked in the mirror one last time before deciding that she was ready to go. So, she looked a bit schoolmarm-ish with her hair tightly pulled back in a French braid. And the layers, ballet flats, and the touch of make-up she was wearing didn't really make her lose that look, but Casey liked the overall image she portrayed. And, if Casey weren't going to a _nightclub_ she did look really cute with her high-waisted, knee-length, pencil skirt, her double-breasted jacket with a large portrait collar, and, of course, her turtleneck.

Grabbing a matching purse, Casey stepped out of her room to run, almost literally, into Derek. Seeing him, Casey took a step back an appraised his outfit. She couldn't believe it, but he was actually wearing sneakers. His black chinos seemed to only be a step up on the dressed up scale, but it was Derek's shirt that Casey was really unsure about.

The white button-down shirt had gray pinstripes and Casey thought that looked nice, but then there was the weird, black and gray print on his right shoulder. It took her a second, but Casey recognized part of the print as a fleur de lis appliqué. The rest just looked like scrawling writing.

As Derek rolled his eyes at her outfit and turned to head down the stairs, Casey saw that the same odd design was across the back of Derek's shoulders. Straight down the middle of his back, written in some kind of odd formal script were the words "proud to be."

Following him down the stairs, Casey asked, "_Proud to be_ what?"

"Not you," Derek instinctively answered. Glancing over his shoulder he asked, "Pink?"

"I look good in pink," she insisted.

"Fine. I guess the better question would be, why are you dressed like that? Loosen up," Derek added as he stopped to grab his leather jacket.

Stopping next to him, hands on her hips, Casey retorted, "I don't think that would be very safe."

Once again, Derek rolled his eyes. "Space Case, no one's going to bother you no matter how you're dressed."

"Because I'll be with _you_?" she asked with fake innocence.

"That would be part of the reason," he replied.

Gasping angrily, Casey exclaimed, "Der-ek!"

Quickly smothering a smile at hearing his _nickname_ again, Derek turned to the three kids sitting on the couch watching the argument in fascination.

"Tell Dad and Nora we'll be back by curfew."

"What if they ask where you've gone?" Lizzie asked, ever the practical one.

Derek thought for a second before saying, "Tell them we're working on the Poetry Bash." Then, before anymore questions could be asked, Derek grabbed Casey's hand and hauled her out the door after him.

Meeting each other's eyes over Marti's head, Lizzie and Edwin said, "Poetry Bash?"

"Smerek likes Casey and Casey likes poetry," Marti quickly explained. Looking up at her older siblings, she added, "Smerek's been looking up poetry on the internet."

Edwin nodded in agreement. "I saw some, remember?" he said to Lizzie.

Lizzie nodded her head and turned her attention back to the movie they were watching. "Those two are so weird."

As that seemed to sum up the problem for everyone, Edwin and Marti also returned their attention to the movie and forgot all about their older siblings antics.

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Derek as with a smirk.

Looking around the warm, crowed room that was filled with a menagerie of scents that almost made her feel nauseous, and feeling the loud, Latino music that seemed to beat against her body, Casey lightly scrunched her nose up in faint sign of disgust.

"It reminds me of a quote I read once about warm places."

"Oh?" Derek replied, sure that the quote was going to be something moronic.

"Warm places equate less clothing which means there is a higher propensity for lower moral standards," Casey said, looking back into his eyes.

"Really," he snarked. "Because I'm quite fond of warm places."

Rolling her eyes, Casey replied, "Why am I not surprised."

Laughing, Derek looked up to find their waiter oozing up to their table.

"Casey, what do you want?"

"We haven't been given menus," she protested.

"Drinks first. They'll bring the menus along later."

"Oh…um…water?"

Rolling his eyes at her lameness, Derek said, "Seriously, Case, can you be anymore pathetic?"

"What's wrong with water?"

Derek didn't bother to dignify that with a response.

Looking mulish, Casey replied, "Fine! I'll have milk then."

"Milk! Woman do you have no pride?"

"Milk," she repeated looking very stubborn.

"Fine," Derek conceded with a groan. Looking up at their waiter, Derek raised two fingers and said, "Dos, Dulce de Leche."

After seeing the man nod in agreement, Casey inclined her head in Derek's direction and said, "Thank you. Wait," she interrupted herself. "That's not milk!"

"Case, leche is milk in Spanish. Just because…"

"No," she growled. "You ordered two drinks called, Sweet of Milk!"

Shrugging, Derek leaned back in his seat, totally unconcerned by this development. "It's a milkshake."

Narrowing her eyes, Casey asked, "What's the flavoring?"

"Bacardi."

"Der-ek!" Casey screeched. Lowering her voice, she leaned across the table to whisper, "That's rum!"

Smirking at her antics, Derek replied, "Case, we're at a nightclub with a Cuban based theme. Bacardi is a natural flavoring in Cuba. It's a traditional preservative."

"Do you know what's it's…proof is?" she snapped back, clearing believing she was in the right.

"Do you?" he returned with a raised eyebrow.

Scowling in defeat, Casey leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms angrily.

Deciding her pouting was kind of cute, Derek quietly laughed, but that only seemed to make her angrier.

Their waiter arrived as Derek started to laugh harder and set two drinks, in coconut cups down in front of them. Derek grabbed his cup and took a sip from his straw while Casey just stared at the drink in disgust.

Rolling his eyes once more, Derek sat his drink back down on the table.

"Casey, what is Ontario's legal drinking age?"

"Nineteen."

"Did they even attempt to card us?"

"No," Casey replied, loosening up a little bit.

"Could the drink really have enough alcohol to really be a problem then?"

"So, it's like cough syrup?" she asked, loosening up even more.

"Actually," Derek answered with a smirk, "It's more like vanilla extract. There is just enough rum for taste."

Considering this Casey let go of her inhabitations completely and picked up her glass, taking a sip. Surprised by the taste, Casey took another sip.

Looking back up at Derek she said, "That Bacardi flavor certainly makes a difference, doesn't it?"

Smirking indulgently, Derek nodded, "Oh, yeah. Nine times out of ten."

"You know, this would be a wonderful way to get Marti to drink her milk!"

Surprised, Derek sucked his drink down the wrong way and started choking.

"Are you all right?" Casey asked in concern.

Finally able to breath, Derek nodded. "Um…Case…maybe we should just stick to dying her milk different colors. Bacardi is kind of expense."

"I suppose so, but I really think she'd like this drink."

Deciding that his little sister was way too young to be losing brain cells to liquor, Derek asserted, "Maybe, but we don't want to get her interested in alcohol at a young age."

"That's true," Casey agreed. "Maybe when she's older."

Taking another sip of his drink, Derek wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Sighing contently, Casey unbuttoned her coat and lounged back against her seat. Grabbing another coconut cup filled with Dulce de Leche she said, "Um…I don't know when I've ever been this thirsty, but this is a _wonderful_ drink."

Looking at all the cups pilled around their table, only one of which had ever been his, Derek replied, "Case, don't you think you've had enough?"

"Why? You said it's just like vanilla extract," she reminded him, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the table.

Gently taking the glass from out of Casey's hands, he said, "Even _you_ could get drunk on vanilla extract if you drink enough of it."

Propping her head in her hands, Casey gave him a wide grin. "Derek Venturi, have I ever told you how cute you are?"

Smirking, Derek replied, "I don't do cute, Case."

"Yes, you do, Derek. If how you treat Marti isn't cute, I don't know what is."

"You being clueless isn't something new."

Casey seemed to consider this a moment while staring intently at Derek's face.

"You think I'm a prude, don't you?"

"Most of the time." Derek had surprised himself by temporizing.

Dropping her hands back to the table top, eyes following their path, Casey shook her head. "No. All the time. I embarrass and annoy you." Casting a quick glance back up at him, she added, "I know I'm right. You wouldn't acknowledge my existence if you didn't have too."

"Case…"

"You pretended you didn't know me until Sam came by our house."

"That was over two years ago."

Scooting around her seat until she was closer to Derek in their corner booth, Casey asked, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked a little warily. Derek did not like the direction this conversation was going.

"**Say** whatever you want. **Do** whatever you want. **Be** whatever you want." Leaning closer, she added, "You are the _only_ person I know who could suddenly claim to love poetry and not have that bother anyone. It's like you have cart blanche to live your life anyway you want and everyone will support you in that."

Seeing a stray strand of hair that had worked its way loose out of Casey's braid, Derek reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Looking back up into her blue, questioning eyes, he said, "You care too much."

"Huh?"

"What people think of you, Case. You care and so anything anyone says negative about you bothers you. That's why it's so easy for me to get you riled up. I don't care and that's why it seems like I have a blank ticket to get away with anything."

Scooting closer, Casey asked, "So, if I did just what I wanted to do and damned the consequences, I'd be happier?"

Smirking, Derek replied, "I'm not sure that would really work for you, Case, but that is the idea."

Casey nodded and seemed to think that over for a minute before looking back up at Derek.

"You know, there's always been something I wanted to do but I was always too afraid of what people would think of me."

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Derek was sure it was something incredibly lame, but he was sort of curious.

"Yeah," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I always wanted to see if you really deserved your reputation."

"For what?" he started to ask, but was cut off mid-thought by Casey's lips.

Her lips were warm and soft, and tasted of strawberries and a hint of Bacardi. Instinct made him respond, moving his lips in a delicious dance against hers. Almost as soon as it started, however, it ended.

Breathing heavily, Casey looked at Derek with big eyes. Finally breaking the silence that had enveloped them, she begged, "Say something."

With great willpower, Derek released his breath in a heavy sigh and reached out to Casey. Pulling her jacket back around her and buttoning it back up, he said, "I think it's time you had your dinner."

Hearing her sniffle, Derek then leaned forward and pressed his lips to her brow. Taking her hand in his, he gently pulled her out of the booth.

"We're supposed to go down to the main floor when we're ready for dinner."

Letting him take the lead, Casey found herself smiling all the way down to their new table.


	6. In Which Dice Roll and Dasey Dances

_Chapter Six: In Which Dice Roll and Dasey Dances_

Mimi looked at her sorority sister in disbelief and shook her head. "Kendra, why are we going to a _high school _hangout?"

Not taking her eyes off the road, Kendra corrected, "It's not a high school hang out. It's a restaurant called Smelly Nellie's."

"You do know you aren't making it sound better?" Mimi replied. "What's so special about this place that we have to drive across town to go to it?"

"It's not completely across town," Kendra weakly argued. "And they make the _best_ chocolate milkshakes in London. After what happened…I need some chocolate."

Sighing, Mimi asked, "Ken, is this really about the chocolate milkshakes or are we hoping to run into a certain someone."

Sniffling, Kendra shook her head. "I don't want to run into my b…uh…Ralphie. Achoo!"

"Oh, Kendra," Mimi sympathized. "You can do so much better. Ralph's an idiot—and he runs a gambling ring."

"I know," she sniffled. "But I love him!"

"Ken, if we're not there soon, I think you should pull over and let me drive. It can't be safe to drive with your eyes filled with tears."

Recklessly pulling into a parking lot and bring the car to a halt, Kendra cried, "Ralphie used to call me Ken."

Rolling her eyes, Mimi gently patted her friend on the back saying, "Kendra, half our sisters call you Ken."

"After hearing Ralphie call me that!"

Looking around Mimi realized they had somehow safely arrived at Smelly Nellie's. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she said, "Come on, Kendra. Let's go get us some of those spectacular chocolate shakes. Okay?"

"Okay," Kendra agreed. "Achoo!"

* * *

"I think this might be our last game," Ralph said with a heavy sigh.

"What are you talking about?" Trevor quickly snapped. "We have a whole bunch of new marks that we could squeeze for some time. The money's good. You don't stop on the way up!"

Ralph just sighed heavily once more.

"Wait," Trevor went on with narrowed eyes. "Is this about your girl who wears yellow feathers? Is this about some broad?"

"She's not just some broad," Ralph protested before sighed happily as he thought of her.

Laughing, Trevor shook his head in disbelief. "I thought we'd get to see this tomorrow from Derek over Casey. I never thought we'd see this from _you_. Who's the girl?"

Smiling stupidly, Ralph said, "Kendra."

"Derek's ex-girlfriend, Kendra?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing," Trevor replied. "I just wondered if that was why we hadn't heard about her before."

"That's part of it," Ralph acknowledged.

"Hey," Max said as he joined the pair. "When's this thing going to get started? Ryan the Fridge is here and he's starting to get restless."

"And we care why?" Trevor asked.

Max wasn't quite sure how to reply to that and it took him a minute to come up with an answer.

"Well, he's a lineman and he gets angry when he gets restless."

Both Ralph and Trevor turned to look at Max's extra large teammate who was slurping down a vanilla milkshake and eating oatmeal raisin cookies like they were going out of style.

Turning back to Max, Trevor raised an eyebrow and snarked, "Tell him to get another milkshake and to cool his jets. We'll start when we start."

"Just because he drinks milk…"

"We're waiting for Sam," Ralph interrupted.

"Sam? Why?"

"I don't suppose you're hoping Lassiter will catch us," Trevor answered.

"Oh," Max sheepishly replied. "I'll go order Ryan another milkshake."

"You do that." Watching the football player walk back to his group, Trevor said to Ralph, "I'm with Derek, football players are morons."

"I always though he said that because Casey dated Max," Ralph replied.

"You…ah crap," Trevor groaned.

Ralph followed Trevor's eye line to see Lassiter walk into Smelly Nellie's.

Shoulders slumping, Ralph whined, "Not this too."

"Guillaume, Southstreet," Lassiter said as he walked over to the two teens. "Smelly Nellie's seems to be crowded for a weeknight."

"You gotta love those milkshakes," Trevor sassed back.

Completely ignoring Trevor, Lassiter turned to Ralph and asked, "What's going on?"

Looking around the room, Ralph said, "I think people are eating."

Not giving up, Lassiter countered, "And there seem to be an awful lot of young men wearing _identical_ hemp necklaces."

"They're really popular," Ralph replied. "I have one of my own," he added pointing to his neck.

"You know what us teenagers are like, Lassie," Trevor interrupted. "We're like lemmings. Ralphie wears something, a girl says it looks cool, and then we've all got to wear it."

"If I were you, Southstreet, I would keep my lips buttoned."

Trevor wanted to say something along the lines of that he was glad he _wasn't_ Lassiter, but decided that he'd pushed their principal far enough and said nothing else.

Once he knew the interruptions were over, Lassiter continued, "I think the identical hemp necklaces are like a password to get the gamblers into the action."

"I don't know," Trevor said, unable to actually keep his mouth shut. "That's a good idea, but there's the problem that hemp necklaces like these are so easy to get and then just anyone could get in."

As Lassiter narrowed his eyes in prelude to giving Trevor a through tongue lashing, the door to Smelly Nellie's once again opened and distracted all the identical hemp necklace wearing people. Instead of Sam, however, two ladies entered the restaurant. Seeing them, Ralph groaned.

Curious, Lassiter turned to see one of his former students, Kendra Mason.

"Awe man," Ralph groaned. "Now everyone who hates me is here."

Kendra, seeing her possibly ex-boyfriend of fourteen months, straightened and pretended not to see him as she strutted across the room.

"Does she really need to walk like that? She knows that only makes me want to kiss her."

Disappointed in Ralph's idiocy, Trevor slapped his forehead with his palm.

Lassiter turned back to Ralph and said, "I'm guessing that she was smart enough to drop you."

"Don't rub it in," Ralph groaned.

"Ralphie," Lassiter tried in a kinder tone as he placed his hand on Ralph's shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Why don't you tell me what going on? What are you and your fellow dregs of society up to?"

Trevor, worried about Ralph eventually cracking, quickly assessed the situation. Having worked at finding gamblers for so long, he'd gotten fairly good at reading people. Glancing back and forth between Ralph and Kendra, he thought he knew what was going on between them and decided to take a calculated risk in order to save the game.

In a loud voice, Trevor announced, "Ralphie, I think we should tell Lassiter what's going on."

"What?" Ralph half-croaked.

All the other gamblers flipped their heads around to look at Trevor in panic. Kendra and her friend looked as well, though Kendra appeared to be trying to look completely unconcerned with whatever Trevor was going to say.

Looking interested, Lassiter dropped his hand from Ralph's shoulder and gave Trevor his full attention.

"Honesty. That's a new game, Southstreet. Let's hear it. What's _actually_ going on tonight?"

Throwing an arm around his business partner's shoulders, Trevor said, "Ralph's getting serious about a girl. He's going to meet her parents. Big step. We're throwing him a party. It's kind of like a bachelor party."

"Yeah," the gamblers shouted throughout the room in agreement.

"Oh, Ralphie!" Kendra exclaimed, popping up from her seat. "Is this true?"

Shrugging helplessly, Ralph replied, "It was a surprise, Keni."

"Oh Ralphie," she cried again as she scurried across the room to throw herself into his arms. "I'm so happy!"

"That's so nice," Lassiter sarcastically said. "When's the big day?"

"Well…ah…we have to talk to Ken's parents…"

"Tomorrow, Ralphie! I can call tonight. Even if I can't reach them, Mother won't mind if we just drop in. She'll be thrilled to finally meet you!"

As Kendra pulled Ralph into a kiss, Lassiter rolled his eyes. Turning to Trevor, he warned, "Southstreet, there better not be a celebratory game later tonight at my school," before turning on his heel and walking out the door.

Not long after Lassiter left, Kendra ended the kiss and cuddled against Ralph's chest. "Oh, Ralphie, you don't know how much this means to me." Pulling back to look up into Ralph's eyes she said, "What do I tell Mother? You know, about the skin thing?"

"The surgery worked. _And_ make sure to tell her that I don't like to talk about it."

"Of course," Kendra agreed. Looking over her shoulder, she called, "Come on, Mimi! I have so much to do before tomorrow night!" Placing a quick kiss on Ralph's cheek she said, "Oh, Ralphie, I'm so excited. I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"I'll be waiting by the phone," he promised.

Trevor had to roll his eyes as he watched Kendra and Ralph blow kisses to each other as she left. He had to hand it to Kendra's friend, Mimi, though. Grabbing Kendra's arm to navigate her and taking the keys was probably a wise move.

As the door shut behind Kendra, Ryan the Refrigerator stomped up to Ralph and Trevor, saying, "When are we going to play?"

"We're waiting for Sam. Go eat more cookies," Trevor demanded.

"I won't wait much longer," Ryan threatened before stomping back to his table.

"Where is Sam?" Trevor asked.

"He went to get the money from Derek," Ralph replied, seemingly completely unconcerned about getting the needed cash to rent their space to play the game. "D's been following the Poetry Club band around all day. There's no way he could have won. Casey's still too angry with him."

"I wouldn't know about that," Sam said as he suddenly appeared next to Ralph and Trevor. "I couldn't find D anywhere so I stopped by his home. Lizzie said that he and Casey left around four to work on the Poetry Bash and they'd be getting back just before curfew."

"No," Ralph groaned. "Oh, no!"

"You're saying," Trevor clarified. "That Derek _actually _did it?"

"It looks that way," Sam replied.

"I'm going to die," Ralph wailed. "Ryan will beat me up for not having the game and then Derek will finish the job because I welched on bet. I'm going to be sick."

Trevor quickly shoved Ralph in a nearby chair and then pushed Ralph's head between his knees.

"Breath deep. You should be fine." Turning to Sam, he asked, "What are we going to do? Ralph's right. The football team's getting restless."

Hearing the recognizable sounds of the Poetry Club Band as they marched their way through the parking lot, a devious smile spread across Sam's face.

"Ralphie, calm down. I've got an idea."

* * *

Playfully batting her hands away, Derek said, "Stay with your coffee, McDonald. This Dulce de Leche's mine. You already stole every other drink I ordered."

Scowling, Casey teased, "It's not my fault my new drink hadn't come yet and you hadn't even touched yours."

"I tasted those drinks, Case. Now you've got my cooties," he teased

Tossing her head back, she replied, "Like _your_ cooties even scare me anymore."

Laughing, Derek pointed his fork at her dinner. "Was I right? You do like that vegetable pasta salad, hum?"

Giving him a look of pure exasperation, Casey nodded. "You're right. Remember to mark it on your calendar, Venturi. This won't happen that often."

"You _admitting_ that I'm right or me _being_ right?"

"Which do you think?" she bantered back with a coy smile.

Derek just laughed.

* * *

Despite all the coffee Derek was filling her with, Casey still had a light buzz going on from all the Bacardi she had consumed and she was more easily distracted than normal. The music playing had a fast, enticing beat and Casey turned to watch the dancers out on the floor. Watching them dance, Casey started to mimic their moves from her seat—a sight which made Derek smile.

Feeling a little too dowdy to dance to music like that, Casey pulled her hair tie out of her hair and shook her long curls out. As she ran her hands through her hair, Derek felt himself flush and wondered when he found Casey messing with her hair to be such a turn on.

Turning back to Derek with a grin, Casey said, "We should dance."

"I don't think so, Case. You know me. I don't dance."

"Oh. Okay," she muttered, looking fairly disappointed and went back to picking at her food.

For a second, Derek thought of caving, but it really wouldn't do his reputation any good to be seen…dancing. And really, he further convinced himself, he didn't want Casey to think he was going soft. Satisfied with his reasoning, Derek went back to his dinner and tried to ignore the fact that Casey was once more dancing in her seat.

Casey, unable to ignore the music for long, allowed her whole body to move to it and in consequence she accidently kicked her purse and scattered everything inside it. Quickly, she dived under the table to gather her things back up before they could be lost or, the more likely in her mind, stolen.

Seeing her antics, Derek started to laugh. Setting down his fork, he had just decided to help her when he was suddenly pulled out of his seat by a very determined woman.

Having gathered all of her things, Casey sat back up only to feel her jaw drop in surprise and a bit of anger to see Derek on the dance floor with some lithe, beautiful Latina. Eyes narrowed, Casey slammed her purse down on the table and mentally declared war.

Hopping up, Casey stripped her jacket off and dropped it on her chair. Grabbing the first available man she saw, she danced her way onto the floor.

Derek, who really didn't like dancing himself, caught a glance of pink in his peripheral vision. Turning his head, he felt his own jaw drop at the sight of Casey. Her pink turtleneck was sleeveless, obviously to combat the heat, and showed off her tone arms. It was, however, the sight of her hips as they swayed side to side in beat with the music and her hair as it swirled around her that did him in.

Abandoning the woman who had pulled him on to the dance floor in the first place, Derek walked over to Casey and grabbed her hand as she spun out, bringing her against him.

Surprised at the change of partners, Casey looked up into his eyes. Seeing who it was, a smirk made its way across her face as she said, "I thought you didn't dance. You seem to be doing quite well at the Salsa."

Gyrating his hips in time with hers, Derek replied, "I never said I _couldn't_ dance, just that I _didn't_."

As she threw her head back in a full throated laugh, Derek wondered how he could have ever thought her plain.

"Want to try something more complicated?"

"Like what?" Casey asked.

"Like this," Derek said just before he spun her out and back.

Giggling she said, "Maybe one day we can try _the_ _tango_."

"Don't get too excited, Case. Me dancing is such a one-time thing."

Any further flirtatious banter had to be put on hold, however, as the determined Latina pulled Derek out of Casey's arms and into hers. Curious to see what Casey would do in response, Derek allowed himself to be danced out of Casey's reach.

Seeing that Derek was making no struggle to come back to her, Casey turned back to her original dance partner, determined to not let Derek bother her. Thirty seconds later, however, and her resolve had bit the dust.

Shoving the oily little man away from her, Casey stormed over and hip checked the beautiful woman away from Derek as she slipped into her place.

Derek smiled widely at this development and immediately stepped into beat with Casey.

"You're so cute when you're jealous," he teased.

"Jealous?" she repeated incredulously. "Never."

"So, you just use body checks on anyone?" he asked, smirk widening.

The woman who had been knocked away, had returned and shoved Casey away from Derek.

"Oh, no you didn't," Casey growled.

Before she could make a move, however, Derek snuck between the women as the Latina threw herself at Casey. Instinctively, Derek shoved her off him. The woman had many male admires who didn't like to see her treated in such a manner. Together, two of them tried to deck him at once. Because of their proximity, they only grazed Derek's jaw but it was enough to make him stumble back and onto the floor.

Casey, anger spiked, threw herself at the two men, knocking them back. The Latina dancer, not willing to give up, threw herself at Casey and raked her sharp nails down Casey's face. That seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

Reaching her hand up, Casey tentatively touched the thin scratches. Feeling the slight abrasions, Casey's nostrils flared and her entire body tightened with rage. Hands tightening into fists, she snarled, "Oh, it's on!"

Derek scrambled up as the catfight between the two women suddenly became a full fledge brawl between every person at the nightclub—workers and customers alike. Dodging between two women and body checking a man who got in his way, it didn't take Derek long to reach Casey. Swinging her up into his arms, he danced her out of the way of a flying chair.

"Derek, put me down," she shouted. "That women is going down!"

Smirking, Derek didn't listen to her at all. Cuddling her closer, he said, "While normally I would think you starting a brawl over me is very hot—which it was—I doubt you want to have a criminal record. I'm sure the police have been called."

"Der-ek! We can't leave my purse," she replied, giving into his logic.

"I'm on it," he replied, dunking and swerving to miss a large, airborne, serving tray.

Giggling, Casey wrapped her arms around Derek's neck and hung on tight as he made his way back to their abandoned table.

Reaching the table, Casey kept one arm around Derek as she reached forward to grab her purse and her crumpled jacket.

Now that they were ready, Derek started to lope towards the front door until he caught sight of a very familiar uniform. Turning on his heel, Derek spun around and headed for the kitchen.

Casey, for her part, was enjoying the feeling of being in Derek's arms. The way he was bobbing about it was almost like they were dancing. Leaning forward she nuzzled his neck, smelling the familiar scent of leather and his shampoo.

Derek, feeling her warm breath on his neck, almost lost his footing and barely stopped them from slamming into a wall.

With all the commotion in the main room, the kitchen staff didn't seem to notice or care that they had invaded their space, and Derek and Casey finally made their quick getaway into the cool outdoors.

Once Derek felt they were far enough away, he stopped and slowly lowered Casey to her feet.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Casey felt lightheaded and wobbly and she quickly grabbed onto Derek until the world stopped spinning and the bells stopped ringing.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "You won't believe me, but for a minute, I almost swore I could hear bells."

"Why wouldn't I belive you?" he replied with a half grin. Seeing her shiver lightly, Derek turned serious. Taking her coat from her, he helped her slip it on and buttoned it up.

Enjoying his tender care, Casey's smile just widened.

Slipping her hand into his, Casey said, "Let's take a walk. I'm not ready to go home yet."

Derek agreed, partly because he felt the same way, and partly because he wasn't sure the police were gone from the club yet and if it was safe to get their car.

Wandering around the grassy and empty park, Derek found himself looking up towards the bright stars above them. Almost against his will, Derek started to muttered a stanza from the poem _Watching the Stars _by Steve Soskin.

_The stars sang to me, last night  
Of love and longing, of beauty and grace  
They sang of you and touched my heart_

As he recited the last line, Derek's words came slower as he turned to look down at Casey.

With his free hand, he lightly caressed her cheek as he continued to recite:

_Conquered by love's honeyed breath  
I had to stop and watch the stars  
And dream of you once more  
For I was yet again reminded  
How truly beautiful you are._

Closing her eyes, Casey reached up and pulled his head down to hers until their lips met in a light kiss.

Pulling back, Derek rested his forehead against Casey's, trying to take in what had just happened and what he'd just confessed. Before he could panic, however, Casey softly whispered, "_I count no more my wasted tears; /They left no echo of their fall; /I mourn no more my lonesome years; /This blessed hour atones for all._"

Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, Derek said, "We're getting sappy."

"How about this?" Casey replied, giving him a wide, teasing grin. "_Sweet summer breeze/Whispering trees/Stars shining above;/Roses in bloom, wafted perfume/Sleepy birds dreaming of love./Safe in your arms, far from alarms/Daylight shall come but in vain./Tenderly pressed close to your breast/Kiss me,…_

Smirking, Derek did as he was told.

Smile widening, Casey recited the next part of the line. "…_kiss me again._"

Once again Derek kissed her.

"_Kiss me again! Kiss me!/Kiss me again!_"

And for each time she demand, Derek obliged, much to both of their delight.

After the poem ended, however, Casey was left with her head tilted back, her eyes closed, and her lips slightly part, in the perfect position to once again receive his kiss.

Smirking Derek replied, "I believe the poem's over."

Not moving, Casey returned, "Let's take it up from the first _Kiss me_. I think I was off with the timing."

"It might help if my lips weren't in the way."

Peaking open one eye, she replied, "Says you."

Laughing, Derek pulled away. "Come on. It's time to head home. We don't want to miss curfew."

"You miss curfew all the time. What's one more time," she added, straightening up.

"Come on, Case."

"Derek," she said, standing stock still and keeping a firm hold on his hand. "This isn't just the moonlight and stars. I do love you."

Looking at her earnest expression, Derek felt a feeling wash over him that he had never felt before. He was fairly certain it might be guilt.

Stepping back towards her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, Case. It's the Bacardi."

"Der-ek! I'm completely aware of what I'm saying and who I'm saying it to," Casey sincerely refuted.

"I know you think…"

"No, Der-ek! I know!"

Sighing, he looked away for a second before turning back to beautiful and solemn brunette who was staring at him.

"Look, Casey, you heard bells. Real bells that rang. The stuck the hour. There's a clock tower just down the street."

"Der-ek…"

"No!" he firmly interrupted, pulling his hand from hers. "No, Casey. We're here with real bells, in a real park, that's a little over two hours from home. And you, you really drank Bacardi. You drank several rum milkshakes. They didn't card us because that's what The Havana does. It's a place that actually promotes underage drinking."

Looking at him with a small smile upon her face, Casey asked, "Derek, are you done?"

Running a hand through his hair, Derek shook his head no. "No, Case, I'm not. I didn't take you here out of the goodness of my heart or some interest in getting to know you better."

"I know," she softly but firmly replied.

"No, you don't know!" he shouted back. "I did it for a bet. I had a damned bet with Ralph that I couldn't take you to The Havana for dinner tonight. I bet him a thousand dollars that I could!"

Derek wasn't surprised when Casey looked down and started to nod. He was sure he that this was it. This time she would never actually speak to him again. Therefore, he was surprised when he felt Casey's hand skim along his jaw before she pressed her lips to his.

As he blinked at her in surprise, Casey's smile just widened and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"_Now_ are you finished?"

"Ah…Case," Derek stammered. "I just told you this was all for a bet."

"I know."

"You aren't mad at me?"

"Derek Venturi, you are an idiot. And," she added with a shrug, "you're a chump."

"What?!"

Giving him another quick peck she said, "You made a _bet_ that you could go a date with _me_."

"Hey," Derek argued. "I didn't know which girl Ralphie was going to pick when we made that bet."

Grin widening, Casey teased, "See. Chump." Then, before he could make a remark, she slipped her hand in his and started tugging him back towards the restaurant. "Come on, Derek. We don't want to miss curfew and I have to stop by the school. I left a binder in the Poetry Club's office."

Following along like a puppy, Derek asked, "How do you plan on getting into the school this late?"

Looking up at him with a smirk, Casey replied, "Der-ek! If _Ralph_ can get in after hours, I _know_ we can."

Laughing, Derek slipped his hand out of hers and proceeded to drape his arm about her shoulders, pulling her against him.

* * *

_The poems Casey recited, in order, are: _AT LAST_ by Elizabeth Akers Allen and _KISS ME AGAIN_ by Henry Blossom._


	7. In Which Markers are Discussed

_Chapter Seven: In Which Markers are Discussed_

"You did not!" Casey exclaimed as she and Derek walked hand in hand down the dark halls of their high school towards the Poetry Club's meeting place.

Smirking, Derek questioned, "You doubt me?"

Laughing, she countered, "I doubt anyone, even you, is that egotistical."

"Sorry, babe, but I _am_ that full of myself," he replied with a wide grin.

Lightly slapping his chest with her free hand, Casey teased, "Idiot."

Seeing the lounging figure in the hall, Derek halted their progress and called, "Sammy? What are you doing here?"

Yawning widely, Sam looked around, blinking wildly. "D, Casey? That you?"

"What are you doing?" Derek repeated as he and Casey came to a stop next to the yawning blond.

"I'm lookout…" Sam interrupted himself, cocking his head towards the faint sound of footsteps. "Crap," he muttered, scrambling up.

Derek and Casey watched as Sam frantically ran into the Poetry Club room. Derek kept a hold of Casey's hand as the inched their way towards the room. Just as they reached the door, more people than either thought could actually fit in there, came flooding out into the hall and spread out like wildfire.

Seeing Ralph run out the door like he was running for his life, Derek quickly reached out and grabbed his friend's upper arm and pulled Ralph to a sudden halt.

"Ralphie, what's going on?"

Nervously, Ralph yanked himself out of Derek grasp and stuttered, "Night patrol," before taking off.

"What are you two kids doing here?" one of the school's security guards asked.

Derek looked around at the deserted hallway and was surprised to find that besides the guard, he and Casey were alone. He was also surprised that the rent-a-cop Lassiter had hired wasn't going after the echoing sounds of footsteps.

Casey, on the other hand, said, "Uh…we…that is, I'm Poetry Club President. I needed to pick up a binder. I have a key," she added, holding up her keychain.

Derek was seriously impressed as he knew first hand that those were just to the house and car. Not one of those keys actually went to the school.

"Oh," the security guard replied. Looking Casey over and deciding that she couldn't be part of the gambling ring he was paid to watch out for, he said, "Be quick. You shouldn't be here so late."

"Thank you," Casey said as she opened the door to the Poetry Club's room and pulled Derek in behind her.

Once they were alone, Casey dropped Derek's hand and looked at the mess that used to be the Poetry Club's headquarters. To make room for the gambling ring, the syndicate had stacked up chairs and tables on top of each other to an incredibly dangerous level. Posters that Casey and the rest of the Club had been so careful making had gotten torn or ripped off the wall and trampled by the unnatural amount of people inhabiting the room.

Watching Casey bring one hand to her mouth in shock, Derek reached out to put a hand on her shoulder saying, "Case…"

"Whoa! What happened in here?" Noel asked as he and Karen trailed into the room.

"It looks like a tornado's been in here," Karen unnecessarily added.

Unable to deal with the destruction to her room, Casey asked, "What are you two doing here so late?"

"Oh," Karen exclaimed. "We've been out doing our band thing. Going to all the hot spots. We've been encouraging students and their families to come to the Poetry Bash tomorrow."

"All night?" Casey asked in disbelief.

Noel shrugged. "Derek said that we'd be getting all the different groups that way. Not everyone shows up to a restaurant at the same time."

Derek knew he was in trouble as he watched Casey stiffen. Seeing her flashing eyes as she turned on him, however, he knew he was in more trouble than he'd ever been before.

In a surprisingly calm tone, Casey said, "You suggested that did you?" Not waiting for a response she went on, her voice getting angrier and louder. "Was that the only part of the bet, Der-ek? Were you just supposed to take me to dinner or were you supposed to make sure the Poetry Club room was empty?"

"It would have been empty anyway," Derek replied. As the words came out of his mouth, he wished he could stop them, but it was like his lips had a mind of their own.

Eyes flashing dangerously, Casey growled, "You didn't answer! Was dinner the only thing? Or were you trying to make me fall for you? I bet you can't wait to go back to your friends," she added, stalking towards him. "I bet you just can't wait to tell them about your loser stepsister and how she was all over you. I'm sure you're just _loving_ this!"

"Casey," he pleaded. "It wasn't…"

Noel and Karen stood there in shock as they looked at the shape of Casey's handprint on Derek's face. Derek, however, tried to reach for Casey again only to have her scream, "Get out! Get OUT! NOW! Now, Derek Venturi! Don't try to talk to me, touch me, or even look at me _again_! I hate you! I truly hate you! Come near me again and I'll move in with in my father in New York! Don't think I won't!"

Derek looked like he was going to try to say something but quickly gave in with a nod. Turning around, Derek met Noel's eyes.

As he walked past, Noel whispered, "I'll drive her home."

"Thanks," Derek replied before softly shutting the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Casey seemed to wilt before their eyes as she dropped to her knees and started sobbing into her hands. Handing her flugelhorn to Noel, Karen rushed over to her friend and pulled her into a tight hug. Rocking Casey gently, she repeatedly said, "I'm so sorry." Somehow, Karen just didn't think saying "Everything will be alright" was appropriate at the moment.

* * *

"Derek, what happened?" Nora exclaimed as he walked in the door.

Derek raised a hand to his cheek. He could still feel the sting of Casey hand upon his face.

"Nothing," he replied, hanging up his leather jacket.

"Nothing?" Nora repeated. It was clear she didn't believe him.

George, knowing they wouldn't get anything out of Derek, just shushed his wife. Nora gave him an angry look, but gave up her quest for information.

Derek had only gone up a few stairs when he stopped and turned to look down at George and Nora. "Oh, I left Casey without a ride so it's my fault if she misses curfew." With that, he turned back around and headed up the stairs.

Nora turned to her husband, eyes opened wide. "Was that Derek?" she asked him.

"It looked like him and sounded like him, but it sure didn't act like him," George replied.

"What happened at their Poetry Club meeting?"

"Isn't the better question, why is Derek at a Poetry Club meeting?"

Nora shrugged looking a little embarrassed. "When Marti explained it to me it made so much sense. I never thought to question it."

"She'll make a great lawyer one day," George said, full of pride for his youngest.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Noel asked as they drove along in the stifling silent of the car.

"No," was Casey's monosyllabic reply.

"Oh—Kay," he nervously agreed.

Still looking out the window, Casey emotionlessly added, "It would be so much easier if we didn't have to share a bathroom."

"Well, look at the brightside. This is our last year of high school before college. You can go to a university all the way on the other side of the country or in America for that matter. Then you'd only have to see him during holidays."

In response, Casey once again burst into tears. Sighing, Noel decided that maybe it would be best for him to just stop talking all together.

* * *

"Lizzie, I need your help," Derek said as he drug his younger stepsister into his room.

Lizzie didn't know what was going on, but Casey had left with Derek, they had come home separately, Derek had been grounded for a week because Casey didn't make curfew, and Casey had tearstains all over her face when she finally did get home. Whatever was going on, Lizzie was sure that Derek was at fault and she had no desire to help him.

"Why should I help _you_?" she asked, arms crossed and a mutinous look upon her face.

Closing his eyes, Derek groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Looking back down at Lizzie, he said, "You shouldn't." As Lizzie grabbed his doorknob, Derek quickly added, "But it's for Casey."

"I'm not playing a prank on her. If you want that…"

"No," he quickly interrupted. "No. I just need you to deliver a message for me."

"Oh? And what would that be?" Lizzie sarcastically asked.

"Tell her that her 12 cretins will be there. She doesn't have to worry about that."

"12 cretins?" Lizzie repeated.

"Just go tell her," Derek exasperatedly instructed.

"You could be nicer. I'm doing _you_ a favor."

"Fine. Will you _please_ go tell Casey. She'll know what it means."

"Okay," Lizzie reluctantly agreed.

A few minutes later she walked back into Derek's room. Looking up from his magazine, Derek silently gave Lizzie his full attention.

Looking uncomfortable, she said, "Casey said that your marker's been fulfilled. You already got 12 cretins to the Poetry Club."

"Damn," Derek sighed, dropping his head back against his headboard.

Fidgeting, Lizzie suddenly blurted out, "I don't know what you promised, but if I were you, I would fulfill my part of the bargain no matter what Casey says if you want her to forgive you."

"Don't worry, Liz," he said. "I already planned on that. I just don't think there's anything I can ever do to get her to forgive me this time."

"You screwed up bad, huh?" she asked inching closer.

Laughing, though there was no humor in his voice, Derek said, "Not this time, actually. But, I probably deserve it."

Biting her lip, Lizzie seemed to struggle with what she was going or not going to say. Finally, deciding, she headed back to Derek's door. Just before opening it, she said, "Edwin and I were watching a talk show, some psychiatrist was guest staring." At Derek's annoyed look, she quickly added, "He said that the opposite of love is not hate but apathy. Love and hate are supposed to be different degrees of the same emotion. As long as Casey doesn't care, you still have hope that she'll forgive you."

Derek seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. "Thanks, Liz. I'll keep that in mind."

"Goodnight, Derek."

"Night, Liz."

* * *

Finally hearing the complete story as he and Casey fixed their poetry posters during lunch (Karen was busy working on the food for their Poetry Bash), Noel said, "But, Ralph or his guys could have decided to play the game here after realizing none of us would be here."

"I know," Casey softly conceded.

"I really think Derek was trying to show that he had won the bet by having Karen and I go around town advertising the Poetry Bash all night."

"I'm sure he was," she quickly agreed.

"And he did confess to the bet," Noel eagerly added.

"I know, Noel," Casey replied with a soft laugh. "I know. Derek didn't do anything wrong this time. It was all Ralph and his gambling ring. Will you please pass the tape?"

"So," he said, handing over the tape. "I don't understand. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that Derek and I aren't really meant for each other. It's too complicated and messy. We'd never work out."

Setting down his pen, Noel stared straight at his friend as he asked, "How will you know unless you give it a try?"

"Noel…" sighing, Casey sat down the tape and looking Noel in the eyes. "Last night, when Lizzie played mediator for us, I remembered what you said about only seeing Derek during holidays. We could destroy our family. Mom and George are _too_ happy for us to ruin it like that for them. I can't do it."

Shrugging, she added, "Besides, we're both way too concerned about ourselves to make it work. Two prima donnas in a relationship is really too much."

"You're not a prima donna, Casey," Noel assured her. "A drama queen, sure. But never a prima donna."

Laughing, Casey turned back to her reconstruction project saying, "Thanks, Noel. You're a good friend."

* * *

"Derek Venturi!"

Derek looked up upon hearing the commanding voice and was surprised to see Noel Covington storming over to him.

"Yeah?" he asked, clearly confused at this confrontation.

"If you don't make good your marker, I'll spread it all over the school that you're a welsher and can't be trusted."

"What?"

"You heard me," Noel assured him.

Derek stared at the other man for a moment before a small smile creeped upon his face. Nodding, Derek said, "I don't welsh."

Glad that his message had gotten across, Noel nodded in agreement. "Good to know."


	8. In Which Derek Needs Luck to be a Lady

_Chapter Eight: In Which Derek Needs Luck to be a Lady_

"Hi, Casey," Marti said as she wandered into her oldest stepsister's room and threw herself on Casey's bed.

"Hi, Marti," Casey replied with a grin. "What are you doing?"

"Daphne and I were playing and then she got bored so I decided to see what you were doing."

"I'm trying to decide what to wear to the Poetry Bash tonight," Casey said as she turned her attention back to her closet.

"Smerek likes it when you wear pink," Marti offered. "He said that's your color."

"Oh," Casey said, straightening. "I think I'll wear black. That's traditionally what one wears to poetry evenings."

Sitting upright, Marti asked, "Casey, if you and Smerek like each other, why do you fight all the time?"

"We don't like each other, Marti," Casey insisted.

"Nuh uh," Marti insisted. "I know you like each other. You and Smerek help each other and do things together…"

"Marti that doesn't mean…"

"And you look at Smerek like Nora looks and Daddy and Smerek looks at you like Daddy looks at Nora."

"No…ah…that is…I mean…Marti, I need to get dressed or I'm going to be late," Casey quickly said, hoping to end this conversation.

Rolling her eyes, Marti got off the bed and headed for the door. Leaving Casey's room, she muttered to herself, "Teenagers are _stupid_."

Watching the little girl leave, Casey smiled sadly. She wished everything could be a simple as it was in Marti's world.

* * *

"Ed," Derek stridently whispered as he stuck his head out his door. "Ed!"

"What?" Edwin asked in a completely normal tone as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Quiet," Derek instructed, dragging Edwin into his room. "I don't want Dad or Nora to hear us."

"What's going on?"

"Are you guys going to Casey's Poetry Bash?"

"No," Edwin replied with a laugh.

"No one's going?" Derek repeated. Edwin could tell he was upset by that.

Giving his older brother a highly confused look, Edwin shook his head no. "Were we supposed to? Casey didn't say anything about us coming."

"She probably didn't want to risk me showing up," Derek said thoughtfully.

Kneejerk reaction, Edwin thought it was highly improbable that that was Casey's thoughts. Then he realized how weird everything had been the last couple of days and decided there was a chance that Derek could be right.

"Ed," Derek said, interrupting Edwin's internal dialogue, "I need you to help me sneak out."

"Why?" he asked, surprised that Derek would even need his help. Derek had snuck out on his own more than once.

"I promised to deliver something to Casey's Poetry Bash and they're going to be there."

"Okay," Edwin agreed with a shrug. "What do you need me to do?"

Smirking, Derek drew his little brother closer while he described his plan.

* * *

"Marti, your singing is lovely," George started to say, exasperation tingeing his voice.

"Marti," Nora said with infinite more patience than her husband. "How much longer do you think you'll be performing?"

Already the little girl had sung seven songs at the top of her lungs. Of course, to give Marti credit, she had to sing at the top of her lungs if she wanted to be heard over the music.

Showing that she was a credit to the name Venturi, Marti risked a look at Lizzie—who was standing behind George and Nora, and neither parent noticed. Lizzie checked her watch and looked up at Marti shaking her head. As they hadn't yet made it to the agreed upon time to stop and Edwin hadn't returned yet, they had to continue being loud so that neither George nor Nora would notice when Derek drove the Prince away.

"Sorry," Marti announced, not bothering with Nora's question. "I'm the opening act. I need to keep opening."

"And who's the main act?" George wearily asked.

"Edwindo," Marti happily.

In unison, George and Nora sighed and slumped back into the couch as Marti once again went about trying to destroy their eardrums.

* * *

"Ugg," Edwin groaned as he and Derek pushed the Prince down the block. "Why couldn't we have just stared the car next to the house? Marti was singing loud enough to block out the noise."

"We don't know that," Derek argued. "It doesn't matter if I get grounded later, but I can't get caught now."

"You seriously owe me," Edwin panted.

"Put it on my tab," Derek sarcastically replied. "Now put some back in it."

"Ugg!"

* * *

"I just don't understand," Karen said as she and Casey arranged the food in the back of the room they were using for the Poetry Bash. "If you love him…"

"Karen, I've already explained it." Casey's tone screamed that she was finished with this discussion.

"But, what if it does work out?" she asked in frustration, almost slamming her hand down in her platter of Deviled Eggs.

"Karen…"

"You love him!"

"I'll get over it!" Casey shouted, finally giving her full attention to Karen. Softer, she repeated, "I'll get over it."

"Why would you want to?" Karen earnestly asked. "Why would you want to get over the one thing that everyone waits their whole lives for?"

"Karen, sometimes…sometimes what you think is best for yourself and …

Looking like she was a moment from rolling her eyes, Karen interrupted with Shakespeare's Sonnet CXVI:

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken._

"Karen," Casey protested. "Love is not love when it is one-sided."

"But you said…"

"How do I _know_ he wasn't lying?"

"I would think that after all this time," Noel said, butting into the girls' conversation in hopes of stopping a potential fist fight. "That if anyone knew when or if Derek Venturi was lying it would be you, Casey."

"Exactly," Karen crowed. Then, looking very serious, she added, "And stop with the excuses. The only thing you really mean is that you're scared to death. You're scared it won't work out but you're even more terrified that it will. Give it up, Casey. That's the _only_ argument you truly have!"

Casey looked taken aback, but much to her friends' surprise, but she didn't say anything. Instead, Casey turned back to arranging the food and didn't say anything else.

* * *

"Sam," Derek called as he got out of the Prince. "What are you doing here?

Looking away from the house he'd spent the last ten minutes staring at, Sam said, "I could ask you the same thing. I thought you and Kendra were through."

"I'm looking for Ralph."

"Why would you be looking for Ralph at Kendra's?"

Smirking, Derek said, "Sammy, I'm not an idiot. Ralph isn't exactly 007. He's said Kendra's name before. Even though he then tried to conceal his mistake with a completely idiotic cover up, I figured it out."

"Why didn't you say anything? Ralph's been panicking, thinking you'd pull the old Male Code out of retirement and use it on him."

Laughing, Derek shook his head. "Like I'd care. Besides, messing with Ralph was way too much fun to tell him that I knew what he was up to."

Scoffing, Sam said, "Remind me to never go up against you and your sense of humor."

"Thanks," Derek smirked. "So, why are you here?"

Sighing, Sam said, "Ryan the Fridge has been losing money and insisted that everyone continue playing until he makes some. Ralph was supposed to meet Kendra's parents tonight…"

"Damn." Shaking his head, Derek turned back to his best friend and said, "I'll make you a deal. I'll explain things to Kendra if you'll take me to the new site for the craps game."

"Deal," Sam quickly agreed. "I had no desire to have to tell Kendra that Ralph flaked out on her _again_."

Then, before Sam could ask why Derek was willing to risk Kendra's tears, Derek jogged up to the Masons' front porch and rang the doorbell.

* * *

"Derek," Kendra exclaimed in surprise when she saw who was standing on her parents' porch. "What are you doing here? Did Ralphie tell you about us?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what? I don't understand."

"Kendra, is there somewhere we can talk privately? It will only take a minute."

"Okay," she confusedly agreed.

Once they were back in her father's office with the door shut, Kendra asked, "Derek, what's going on?"

"Ralph wanted to come tonight, he really did. But you see, he had this relative…"

"His aunt from Pittsburg?" Kendra filled in.

"That's the one," Derek agreed. "His aunt from Pittsburg. Well, she…"

"His _floating _aunt from Pittsburg," she interrupted with a wail. "Why did he do it, Derek? Why? He promised. In front of all those people he promised to come. Ralph promised to change!"

"Come on, Kendra. You know Ralph. You've been dating over a year now."

"Fourteen months."

"Fine, you've been dating for fourteen months. Long enough for you to really know him. He shouldn't be surprised."

"But he promised to change," Kendra reiterated. "He promised to give up that game!"

Sighing, Derek stepped closer to the upset woman. "Kendra, is it really Ralphie you want or what you think you can make Ralphie into?"

"I want to be normal," she snapped. "I want to be able to introduce him to my parents. I don't want to worry about getting a call to come bail him out of prison."

"Then you should have fallen in love with someone who was normal!" Derek informed her. "Some preppy college guy with a future and a plan. Not Ralph."

At this, Kendra collapsed into a nearby chair and started to sob. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, but also feeling like he really couldn't leave her like that, Derek grabbed a box of tissues and handed them to her.

As she blew her nose, Derek crouched down in front of her and said, "Listen, Kendra, I once heard that no matter how well you think you know a person they always surprise you by being someone else. And, okay, that may be true, but no guy wants to think that he's just a baseline for you to build onto make the perfect man. Nobody's perfect and if you want to stay with Ralph you're just going to have to accept the bad with the good. That's just the way it is."

Wiping the tears off her face, Kendra replied, "That's easy for you to say, Derek. You're not in love with Ralphie."

"No, I'm not," Derek dryly agreed.

Standing up, he started to head for the door when Kendra's voice stopped him, saying, "Just wait, Derek Venturi. Just wait until you fall in love with someone you shouldn't and then tell me how easy it is."

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Derek said, "I'm sure that's got to be tough."

As the door shut behind him, Kendra decided to indulge in more tears, completely ignoring the hurt she had heard in Derek's voice.

* * *

"Where are we?" Derek asked as he and Sam climbed through the dusty room filled with pipes, various equipment, and tools.

"Boiler room. Technically it's the basement," Sam added, "but that's what it's called on the blueprints."

"You should have made this your regular spot. I doubt Lassie ever thinks of coming down here."

"If it weren't for the smell, I would agree with you," Sam replied with a grin.

Stepping over a random piece of pipe, Derek and Sam turned a corner and came upon the craps game. Hearing the footsteps, everyone froze, but immediately let loose a sigh of relief upon seeing who had joined them.

"It's you, Venturi," Ryan said. "You here to lose some money to me."

Rolling his eyes, Ralph tossed Derek the dice they had just been playing with. Looking at the white blocks, Derek said, "You can't win unless you cheat, huh?"

"You want to make something of it, Venturi?" Ryan asked, towering over the scrappy, hockey captain.

Leaning back to meet Ryan's eyes, Derek raised an eyebrow and said, "Do you want me to sic Casey on you again?"

Ryan stood there for a minute before backing up and backing down with a shake of his head.

"That's what I thought." Turning back to the group Derek said, "I'm sure you've all heard of the Poetry Bash that is going on tonight." Over the loud groans that filled the area, Derek shouted, "Hey, cut it out! It's not that bad. There will be lots of food."

"It's poetry, dude," some gambler called out from the back.

"Yeah, only losers like poetry," someone else agreed.

Running a hand through his hair, Derek's thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a way to fulfill his marker. Feeling the pointy end of the fake dice in his hand, Derek looked down at them and grinned.

Looking back up at the group standing around him, Derek said, "How about a bet?"

"What type of bet?" Ralph warily asked for the group. Already he owed Derek 1000 dollars, he didn't really feel like getting even more in debt at the moment.

"One roll. I win all of you go to the Poetry Bash."

"And if you lose?" someone from the back called out.

"Each of you gets a thousand dollars."

"How do you expect to pay that?" Trevor asked, always the practical one.

Pulling a wad of cash out of his jacket and holding it up, deciding that it was a good thing he had cleared out his savings account at the ATM before trying to find Ralph, Derek smirked and said, "I'm good for it."

Raising his hand, Ryan said, "Wait, I either get a 1000 dollars or two hours of free food?"

"That's right," Derek replied. "Who's in? And I want your markers."

As everyone gathered around to start writing their markers up, Ralph pulled Derek over to a quiet side of the room.

"About our last bet. I find at the moment that I'm a little short on cash. I will…"

"Ralphie, don't worry about it," Derek interrupted. Handing over several bills, he said, "I lost."

"But…"

"I lost," Derek repeated with a shrug. "There's your thousand."

"Wow, thanks D," Ralph said with a grin.

"Oh, and Ralphie."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should buy Kendra something nice with that. Let her know you're sorry for screwing up tonight."

Ralph stared at his friend in disbelief before slowly nodding his head. "I'll do that."

"Good."

* * *

Gathering up the markers, Derek suddenly felt a little queasy. This wasn't like any other game. This game meant something. A lot more than money was riding on this one. His entire _life_ was riding on this roll.

Handing the markers and money to Sam for safe keeping, Derek took a deep breath and rolled the real dice around in his hand. Closing his eyes, he crouched down and threw.


	9. In Which the Poetry Bash Happens

_Chapter Nine: In Which the Poetry Bash Happens_

"I can't believe he actually won on one roll," Ryan complained as he toweled off.

After winning, Derek had informed the gamblers that there was no one way they were attending Casey's Poetry Bash smelling like the boiler room. All of them then headed up to the locker room showers. As their clothing also stunk, they either changed into any spare clothing they might have or (as most of them did) changed into clean gym uniforms.

Groaning, as he had been listening to this argument the entire time they waited for the showers and then through taking their showers, Max said, "Come on, Ryan. Sam pulled out a new pair of dice. They were still in the package."

"Sam's Venturi's best friend, he might have…"

Stopping in the mist of pulling on his shirt, Max interrupted, "Sam is _not _that lame. You think he'd actually go to the Poetry Bash and miss out on a grand. Besides, you and your stupid fake dice cleared Ralph out—and Sam's portion of the payout from Ralph."

"Well, Venturi could have switched 'um. Maybe he's into magic!" Ryan lamely insisted.

"Jonathon English and Ian Gallagher checked out the dice _three _times. Venturi **didn't** cheat. He was just born lucky."

"Man," Ryan growled as he slumped against the lockers, "If the other football players find out I've gone to a _Poetry Bash_, none of them will talk to me."

"Dude, half of us have to go to this thing. No one will have room to mock."

"I guess you've got a point."

"I do. Now put on your shoes. I want to get this thing over with."

As Ryan and Max walked past them, Trevor turned to Sam and asked, "Did you?"

Giving his partner in crime a look of fake disgust, Sam replied, "You heard Max. I'm not _that_ lame." As Trevor laughed, Sam turned to their "boss" and friend, and asked, "You ready yet?"

Looking up, Ralph asked, "Do you think if I wrote Kendra a poem she would forgive me?"

"Dude, I'm not sure I want to hear what you would come up with," Trevor teased. "Let's go. I don't want to see Venturi get mean. He seems a little jumpy about the whole thing."

"Probably because he actually lost the bet about taking Casey to dinner," Ralph said as he followed his friends out the door.

"Really?" Sam asked. Laughing, he added, "It figures that the one girl that matters he couldn't get with. And I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Ralphie!"

The guys turned to see Kendra strolling towards them in a fuzzy pink sweater and looking completely full of fake surprised at running into them.

"I didn't know you'd be here."

Leaning towards Sam, Trevor muttered, "Where else would he be?"

Sam grinned in reply but didn't say anything out loud.

"Keni," Ralph cooed in response to his probably—most likely—maybe girlfriend's voice. Scurrying over to her, he said, "Sugerlips, what are you doing here?"

"Don't ask," Sam commanded. Trevor quickly bit down on his lips in order to comply.

Trying to look cool and collected, Kendra said, "I just thought I'd stop by my old alma mater. See how things were going. Don't let me stop you."

"Keni, I sent Sam down to your house to explain," Ralph pleaded.

Turning her nose up and looking very offended, Kendra replied, "As I said, Ralph, it's just a coincidence us running into each other. We don't need to discuss a distasteful past."

Making a very dramatic scene, Kendra turned on her heel and started to click back down the hallway. Ralph, chasing after her, claimed, "Keni, if you knew what I've been through."

"What you've been through?" she screeched turning back towards him. "What _you've_ been through?"

"Keni, you can't still be upset about one lousy dinner."

Straightening, Kendra replied, "I am NOT upset. I'm the opposite of upset. In fact, I am completely over you. You cannot upset me anymore. Achoo!"

"Gesundheit," Ralph automatically replied.

Realizing what she'd just done Kendra's eyes widened and she burst into tears. Sighing, Ralph wrapped an arm around Kendra's shoulders and pulled her against him.

"Keni, stop crying. You know what it does to me to see you cry."

Kendra only started to wail louder.

Pulling a tissue out of her purse and handing it to her, Ralph said, "Listen, Keni, sweetlips, I'll meet your parents. I promise. I'll be on my best behavior and I won't say anything stupid. They'll love me."

Sniffling, Kendra looked up at him with big, wet eyes, and said, "Oh, Ralphie, if only I could believe you."

"You can, Keni! You know I would do anything for you."

"Well, if we leave right now, we could still make dinner. The roast might be a little dry…"

"I love dry roast," Ralph assured her.

A loud clearing of the throat, stopped Ralph from rushing out the door with his girl right then and there. Turning, he found Sam and Trevor giving him meaningful looks and Trevor pointing incessantly towards his watch. It took Ralph a minute, but he finally figured out what his friends were trying to tell him.

Sighing, Ralph said, "I can't go to dinner right now."

"Why not?"

"I'm going to tell you the truth, but you probably won't believe me."

Stiffening once again, Kendra narrowed her eyes and asked, "Ralph, why can't we go to dinner tonight?"

"I'm going to the Poetry Bash."

Yanking herself out of Ralph's arms, she shouted, "Ralph! That is the Biggest lie you've ever told me!"

"Kendra…"

"No," Kendra interrupted. "It's that stupid game, isn't it?!"

"It's true! I promise ya! I'm going to the Poetry Bash," Ralph insisted.

Turning away, Kendra said, "You're _always_ promising me, Ralph. I'm tired of always being up in the air about our relationship."

"Kendra."

"All the time, all the tears I've wasted on _you_!" she ended with a howl.

"Kendra, I'm sorry. You know I love you. More than anything."

"No," she repeated. Capturing a glimpse of Sam and Trevor motioning to Ralph that it was time to leave, Kendra crossed her arms and took a step back. "No, I'm tired of playing second fiddle to a stupid game and your stupid friends. No, Ralph, I'm done. Achoo!"

"Come on," Trevor hissed.

Sighing, Ralph's shoulders dropped and he turned to follow Sam and Trevor to the Poetry Bash. Stopping once more, he said, "I do love you, Keni. Even when you sneeze all over dinner."

Kendra just turned her head away from him. Seeing this, Ralph gave up completely and left.

Hearing Ralph's footsteps move away from her, Kendra slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor of the now empty hallway and burst into tears.

* * *

Casey ran her hands down her black slacks in an attempt to straighten out non-existent wrinkles as she nervously stared at the clock. Almost a quarter past seven and no one except the regular Poetry Club members (herself, Noel, and Karen), their faculty advisor (Mr. Patterson), and Principal Lassiter had shown up. This was it, Casey decided, this was the end of the Poetry Club.

"Casey," Mr. Patterson gently started. "I don't think we're going to have any more participants."

Sighing, Casey shook her head and stood up. "I'm sorry. We've never been able to generate interest in the Club before, I don't know why I thought we could do so now. I want you to know that I take full blame for this failure."

"Casey," Mr. Patterson laughed. "No one's in trouble."

"The funding is just low," Lassiter agreed.

The sound of loud talking and the door to the room slamming open, startled everyone attending the Poetry Bash. The doorway soon filled up with people, but not one of them made an effort to cross the barrier into the room.

A familiar voice that quickened Casey's heart, however, started shouting, "What's going on? Move it! Get in there! Get going! Everyone get in there!"

Reluctantly the group started to file into the room and stand about awkwardly.

"Do we have everybody?" Derek asked, now standing in the front of the room and scanning his group of misfits. "Where's Ralph, Sam, and Trevor?"

The three in question ran into the room, having heard their names, and called, "Here!"

"Good." Strolling over to Casey, Derek said in an undertone, "I have now fulfilled my marker. Normally, I would ask for it back, but I wouldn't want to ruin your decorations. When you have some time, remember to mark it _Paid in Full_."

While Derek had been talking to Casey, Karen enthusiastically offered the group a seat. Hearing the loud demurs, Derek turned from Casey and back to the group.

"Sit down! Do as you're told!"

The group reluctantly did as they were told, filling up all the chairs that Karen had hopefully set up.

Pulling the markers out his jacket pocket, Derek said, "No screwing off and be polite! Remember where you are and that you're in the company of ladies.

"Now, since I have some packing I need to get back to, I'm appointing Sammy here as my deputy. Make sure they each recite a poem before giving them their markers back. Nothing dirty."

"Got it, D," Sam agreed, taking the markers.

Casey had been staring at Derek in disbelief ever since he mentioned the word "packing." She was surprised to find that it felt like someone was squeezing her heart in a crushing grip at the idea of Derek leaving—most likely to live with his mother in Spain.

So intent on her thoughts, Casey never heard Derek say as he paused at the door before leaving, "Just remember, Sammy will tell me if any of you don't comply. Any screw ups and you'll answer to me personally."

"I'd like to add," Sam said with a grin. "That there are many of you that I would squeal on with pleasure." Seeing Casey was still distracted, he said, "Hey, Noel. Let's get this thing started."

"Thanks, Sam," Noel said with a highly amused smile. "During the Poetry Bash, we like to take turns reciting our own poems or poems that have meaning for us. Fill free to share with us why the poem means something to you. Who would like to begin?"

"Wait a second!" Lassiter shouted, getting _everyone's_ attention. "Markers! That's where your crew went. You were running the game out of the Poetry Club's room. Casey! You were there last night. You can point them out!"

Looking out over the faces of the worried gamblers in front of her and then to Sam and Ralph's silently pleading faces, Casey made a decision. Turning to Lassiter, she said, "I'm sorry. I did see any of them."

"But, your room," Lassiter pleaded.

"It couldn't have been them who trashed our room, Principal Lassiter," Karen interrupted. "Poetry lovers like them wouldn't have dared harm our room."

Hearing the murmurs of agreement throughout the room, Lassiter's shoulders slumped and he sighed. He knew when he was beaten and with a nod he returned to his seat.

Giving Karen a quick wink, Noel turned back to the group. "So, who first?"

Seeing that everyone was trying to avoid eye contact with Noel, Sam stood back up and said, "Ryan! Go!"

"Ah…" he started to balk.

Sam just held up the markers in response. Sighing in defeat, Ryan stomped up to the front.

"There once was a man from Nantucket…"

"Clean," Sam interrupted.

"You can make one up," Noel reminded the football player.

"Oh, fine," Ryan grumbled. "What's that…haiku format again?"

"Five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables," Casey said, finally joining in.

Clapping along, Ryan said, "Foot-ball is co-ol."

Karen bit her lip to stop from laughing and forced herself not to look at Noel, knowing she would lose it if she did."

"Seven?"

"That's right," Casey agreed.

"I p-lay it ev-ery-day. Hock-ey sucks bad—est." Looking quite proud of himself for finishing, Ryan turned to Casey and asked, "Can I eat the food now?"

"Yes."

"But you have to stay till the end," Sam shouted. "Shane Row, you're next. And nothing derogatory about hockey." Seeing the masses of blank looks, he added, "Everyone be nice about everyone else's sport."

Shane Row, the curling team's skip, walked to the front of the room scratching his head. "I know we just had a unit on poetry in English class…wait, I've got it. It's by Jonathan Swift. I don't think there's a title." Then smirking widely, he recited:

_Under an oak, in stormy weather _

_I joined this rogue and whore together; _

_And none but he who rules the thunder _

_Can put this rogue and whore asunder._

Then to the hooting of his peers at daring to use "bad words" in front of the school's principal (who was in fact, rolling his eyes at such as display), Shane Row smirked and quickly jogged back to the food.

"Well, thank you, Shane," Noel said around his laughter. "Who wants to go next?"

Sam, not even waiting for volunteers anymore, shouted, "Barry Vines, you're up!" much to the amusement of Barry's fellow baseball teammates.

* * *

After listening to three more haikus that rivaled Ryan's on bad, an epic poem on hockey team's unfortunate run in with highly gaseous broccoli on their last away game, and six participants saying that the following poem was their favorite because it got them their marker back and let them eat food, Casey stopped pretending to pay attention to the poems and went back to the refreshments table to dish out the punch.

Ralph, hoping to sneak a cookie, slid back to the refreshments table while Sam was taking his turn and reciting the poem, _A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky_ by Lewis Carroll. Seeing Casey forlorn and swirling the punch around with a ladle, Ralph decided to gather his nerves and check on her—especially considering that his bet with Derek might have been part of the problem.

"Hey, Casey."

"Oh, hi, Ralph," she absently said. "Your poem was very good."

"I haven't recited it yet. I'm trying to write one on Kendra's eyes." Handing her the napkin he'd been writing on, he asked, "What kind of poetry is that?"

Casey stared at it for a minute, before kindly saying, "Half rhyme."

"Thanks," Ralph said with a grin. "I was worried it wasn't a real poem."

"It's very nice, Ralph," Casey assured him. "I'm sure Kendra will love it."

Seeing her still look so down, Ralph felt even guiltier than when he first came up to her.

"Uh, Casey…if you've been bothered by Derek…that's all my fault. I mean, I bet that he couldn't take you to dinner to the Havana." Smiling Ralph added, not understanding the meaning in Casey's expression as she whipped her head around to look at him, "You don't know how glad I was to win that bet."

"Win?" Casey dumbly repeated.

"Yeah. Derek already gave me the thousand we bet." With a shrug he added, "You're a classy lady and all, and I knew you wouldn't fall for Derek's plays. You were a sure bet. And, I knew out of anyone, you could handle him. I'm just glad you didn't get caught in the middle of our bet."

"You won," Casey said, a grin lighting up her face. Pulling Ralph into a impulsive hug, she kissed him on the cheek and repeated, "You won."

"Yeah," Ralph agreed, by now thoroughly confused as to what Casey was on about.

Skipping back, she added, "Thank you. Oh, thank you. Good luck with Kendra!" she called over her shoulder. And then she was gone.

Ralph just shook his head and took a bite of his cookie.

"Ralph, put down the cookie and get up here," Sam yelled. "It's your turn."

* * *

Running down the empty halls, Casey felt like shouting or singing. So caught up in her euphoria, she ran into a still moping Kendra. Willing to share her joy, Casey helped the blonde up and said, "Go straight down the hall to room 252. The Poetry Bash is in there. Ralph just went up. He's reading a poem he wrote about your eyes. If you hurry, you can catch the end."

Watching Casey run off, Kendra called, "He's really at the Poetry Bash?"

"His poem's in half rhyme…sort of," Casey called over her shoulder before once more disappearing from sight.

Smiling, Kendra wiped away the last few stray tears and hurried down the hall to hear her man's poem that was all about her.

* * *

"And now," Edwin announced. "For my next trick, I will turn this blue ink into water!"

"Ooh," Lizzie said, while doing the typical Vanna White hand pose of showing off a new puzzle, doing her best as the lovely assistant to get the audience enthused.

Whether the audience of three was enthused or not was never known as Casey threw open the front door, banging it against the wall, and rushed up the stairs like the hounds of hell were after her.

Nora, curious and a bit worried, started to stand up to go after her daughter. Being the loyal brother that he was, Edwin thought fast and tossed the ink away shouting, "Ta da!"

The trick might not have turned Nora's attention, but Lizzie, upon whom the blue ink had landed, screaming, "Edwin this stains!" sure did.

As Lizzie took Edwin's magic scarves and tried to wipe the ink off, only to now have splotchy blue skin, Marti started to giggle and claimed, "You look like a smurf!"

Both George and Nora's thoughts were turned far away from their eldest children as they then put all their effort in trying to stop Lizzie from throttling Edwin.

* * *

_The Jonathan Swift "poem" is from _Marriage Certificate_, located in the _Oxford Book of Literary Anecdotes_, James Sutherland, ed. (1975), no. 77_


	10. In Which Casey Confronts Derek

_Chapter Ten: In Which Casey Confronts Derek_

In her rush to get home, Casey forgot one specific detail—what she was going to say. Reaching Derek's closed door, Casey stopped nervously in front of it and stared. Feeling her thoughts getting even more tangled up together, she started pacing up and down the length of the hallway trying to sort out her feelings. Stopping in front of Derek's door once more, she stared at it and pictured Derek on the other side packing his bags, getting ready to fly out of her life and to Spain.

Panic over taking common sense, Casey gave up on planning and decided to wing it. Taking a deep breath, Casey grabbed the doorknob and stormed her way into Derek's room.

Derek glanced up from his computer when he heard his door slam open. Seeing Casey stumble over a pile of clothing, he stood up. Luckily, she straightened herself out and didn't need his help. Derek wasn't sure, however, if this odd staring they were doing was any less awkward than if he had actually caught her.

As it didn't appear that Casey was going to say anything anytime soon, Derek decided to break the ice.

"The Poetry Bash is already over?"

"No…I left just as Ralph was getting up."

"That was probably a good idea," he agreed.

"It didn't have anything to do with his poem," Casey corrected. "I'd already read that."

"Oh. … Then why…"

"Ralph told me you lost the bet," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"What bet?" Derek asked, a study in innocence.

"The Havana bet."

"Why would he have told you that?"

"I wondered that myself," Casey replied, stepping over a pile of laundry and a step closer to Derek.

"If you came to ask me," Derek nervously replied, "I can't explain to you the workings of Ralphie's mind. He's an idiot."

"True," she conceded. "But, he said you already gave him the money he won."

Shoulders slumping, Derek asked, "What do you want from me, Case?"

"I want to know why you lied."

"I always lie. You know that. I'm the Lord of the Lies, remember?"

Stepping closer once again, Casey said, "Yes, but it makes no sense for you to lie about this. I could see you lying to keep money but not to lose it."

Smirking, Derek crossed his arms across his chest and said, "Case, you'll never understand the workings of my complicated and amazing mind. Just give it up."

Realizing that she wasn't going to get an answer, Casey seemed to deflate. Looking around his room, she realized that none of Derek's things were packed. Quickly, she reviewed in her mind what he said before leaving the Poetry Bash. Even more so than before, she was sure Derek claimed that he needed to do some packing.

"You haven't packed."

"What?" Derek asked, confused at her new tangent.

"You haven't packed. You told everyone at the Poetry Bash that you were leaving because you had to go pack."

"Oh, that," he replied with a shrug.

Looking him in the eyes, Casey asked, "Why did you say you were packing?"

Derek returned the stare for a moment before finally giving in. "Because I promised you that I'd get them there and get them to participate. I didn't want your cretins to think I was leaving because I didn't want to be there."

"So, you said you were packing?"

Shrugging once again, he replied, "Packing makes it seem like I'm going somewhere, like I've got something I _have_ to do."

"Der-ek, that was sweet," Casey said with a grin.

"I don't do sweet," he automatically countered.

Straightening, Casey's smile widened and she stepped over another pile of things that was blocking the floor.

"Yes, you do. You memorized poetry for me."

"For the bet," Derek corrected.

Casey shook her head. "No, for me." Slowly making her way towards him, she continued, "You may have memorized some of that poetry for the bet, but _Watching the Stars _by Steve Soskin, **that** you memorized for me."

"Casey," Derek growled. "I may not do my homework, but I may occasionally pay attention in English class. That's all it is."

Looking as if he'd just slapped her, Casey stumbled back a step, her eyes growing wide with disbelief and threatening tears.

"So, it was all just a bet." Nodding to herself, she looked down at her feet. "It was all about some weird honor system that you have that I'll never understand. You were lying when you said you loved me. I can't believe I was actually right the first time. There was more to that stupid bet than I knew."

Turning away, Casey said, "Sorry, I bothered you."

Watching her go, looking so dejected and sad, Derek swallowed his pride. Feeling like a total idiot, he screwed his eyes shut and announced, "Doubt the stars are fire. Doubt the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love."

Turning to look at him, Casey had a small smile upon her face that she didn't bother trying to hide.

"What?"

"You heard me," Derek replied, eyes still closed.

"But, I want to make sure I heard you _correctly_. I want to make sure…"

"Damn it, Casey," he exclaimed, finally looking at her. Quickly crossing the room, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly to emphasize his point. "I quoted _Shakespeare_ for you. And you're right, I memorized that other poem for you as well. I told you everything about the bet. I paid Ralph because…damn it, Case, I fell for you, alright. I fell for you and I didn't want our first date to be all about a bet."

Smiling beautifully at him, she asked, "Then why did you lie."

"Because you scare me, Casey McDonald. Everything about you scares me. You're not like every other girl I've dated, you matter. You really matter and I don't want to mess that up! Are you happy?"

Shrugging his hands off her shoulders, Casey wrapped her arms around Derek's neck. "I'd be happier if you'd stop yelling at me and just kiss me, you idiot."

Realizing she had just played him to get him to admit all that, Derek felt his jaw drop open. Casey just smiled wider.

"You played me!"

"You lied," she nonchalantly countered. "I think we're even."

"Ah…" Derek felt like his brain was stuck and he had no idea how to respond to such a development.

Deciding that if she waited for Derek to make a move, they'd be standing there for the next week, Casey gently closed his mouth and pressed her lips to his.

It didn't take long for Derek to forget about everything else and start responding. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he decided that maybe memorizing an _occasional_ poem for her wouldn't be so bad.

Suddenly, however, Casey pulled back, breaking their kiss.

"Der-ek," she panted. "What about our parents?"

"What about them?" he asked, really more interested in reclaiming her lips that discussing George and Nora.

"What do we tell them about us?"

Cupping her check with one hand, Derek said, "Later."

"Der-ek…"

"Later," he firmly repeated. "I memorized poetry for you. I even saved the Poetry Club for you. I think I deserve a reward. We will talk _later_."

Grinning, Casey closed her eyes and leaned closer. Just before Derek claimed her lips with his, she muttered, "You do realize this means you now have to attend our meetings. You _did_ claim to be a member."

Cutting himself off with her lips, Derek decided that would also be discussed **later**.


End file.
